Birth Stories - Unassisted Childbirthhttp://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/Mon, 29 Jun 2015 06:06:44 +0000en-USSite-Server v6.0.0-1-1 (http://www.squarespace.com)The Gentle Birth of Bethany by Kristen MaaherraLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 20:04:06 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/the-gentle-birth-of-bethany-by-kristen-maaherra52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ec01e1e4b038501428b08cAll four of my children were born at home. My first born, Joshua,was
"delivered" by a naturopathic physician. It was a good experience, but some
part of me longed to give birth alone. When I conceived my second child,
Becky, in 1972, I thought I would finally get my chance, but my family
objected so strongly that I decided to take a wait and see attitude.All four of my children were born at home. My first born, Joshua,was "delivered" by a naturopathic physician. It was a good experience, but some part of me longed to give birth alone. When I conceived my second child, Becky, in 1972, I thought I would finally get my chance, but my family objected so strongly that I decided to take a wait and see attitude.

As it turned out, the day I went into labor, I was at the swimming pool with my parents and my brother, David. I actually wasn't even sure if I was in labor, but my mother somehow knew. "Go home," my mother said, "and take David with you. It would make me feel better if I knew he were there." I agreed, and several hours later, Becky was born into David's hands. It was 1972, and David was on leave from the military. He had just come back from Viet Nam, where everyone in his platoon had been killed except him. Catching Becky, he said, turned his life around. It changed his thoughts from death to life. He is now a successful artist in New York doing one man shows.

When I conceived Bethany in 1977, I considered giving birth alone, but my family and friends were so adamantly opposed to it that I acquiesced to their desires and hired a midwife.

The day I went into labor with Bethany, I was out in my garden planting flowers. Once again, however, I wondered if this was labor. My contractions were mild but my consciousness had changed. I had felt this way with my other births, also. It was as if a window inside me had opened up and I could see everything very clearly.

I continued to feel contractions throughout the day, but whenever anyone came over for a cup of tea, they would stop. As soon as I was alone again, the contractions returned, but they were so mild, I still wasn't sure if I actually was in labor. I worked in my garden until it was so dark I couldn't see. The dirt felt good in my hands. Somehow, it grounded me.

After fixing my children dinner and putting them into our family bed, I decided to take a bath. It was a stormy night, and it felt wonderful to slip into a nice, hot tub of water. So wonderful, in fact, that I fell asleep.

At 1 A.M. I awoke with a start. Now this, I said to myself, is labor. I stood up, reached down and felt Bethany's head at my perineum. I assumed my water had just broken but it was hard to tell because my body was all wet from being in the tub. I don't want to give birth in the bathroom, I thought, I want to be in my bedroom. I walked down the hall holding onto her head. As soon as I got to the bedroom, I pulled my perineum to the side and out slipped her head. She made the sweetest little noise and started to breathe. She was so perfect and beautiful. She looked like a little Dresden doll.

And then the most amazing thing happened. Her whole body just turned inside me, as if a hand - an angel's hand - had reached inside me and turned her body into the perfect position to be born. Who is turning her? I thought, how is this happening? It was a miracle.

And then as I was standing there, she delivered her own little arm and hand and the rest of her tiny body slipped into my hands. There she was! Instinctively I put my mouth on hers and sucked out what little bit of mucus there was. I felt as if I was watching myself from afar. Instantly, I put her to my breast and she began to nurse. Soon the placenta slipped out and I tied and cut the cord.

About a half an hour later, some of my friends who had visited me earlier in the day, stopped by to see if anything had become of my "labor." When they saw me peacefully nursing Bethany on the bed, one of them yelled, "The baby's here!" This woke up Becky and Joshua, who were sleeping next to me, unaware that anything had happened. Soon, everyone gathered round and sang "Happy Birthday" to Bethany.

An hour or so later, my friends all went home, and Joshua, Becky, Bethany and I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

]]>They Don't Call it a Peak Experience for Nothing by Ruth ClaireLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 20:03:10 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/they-dont-call-it-a-peak-experience-for-nothing-by-ruth-claire52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ec019de4b04ebfb35a2e32Noah was born just after 9:00 am on December 12, 1969. It had recently
snowed: a crisp, thin, white layer sparkled outside the living room window.
I woke up just after 7:00 in the morning with a slight twinge in my lower
back, the kind of ache anyone who has ever had menstrual cramps would
recognize immediately.PART 1: MELODRAMA

Noah was born just after 9:00 am on December 12, 1969. It had recently snowed: a crisp, thin, white layer sparkled outside the living room window. I woke up just after 7:00 in the morning with a slight twinge in my lower back, the kind of ache anyone who has ever had menstrual cramps would recognize immediately.

Wearing my old yellow flannel nightgown, I padded barefoot into the kitchen. My father, flying out the door to get to the train on time, was quickly peeling his morning banana. My mother, preparing to leave for work, was less pressed for time. She was still at home by 8:00, when the dull back-ache turned into breath-shortening, wavelike belly cramps. The cramps were regular and evenly spaced, delicately knotted macramé that wrapped around the melon my belly had become. That melon, I knew, was the sinew and spirit of another human being who had come one night under a vast and deep dark velvet desert sky while I imagined that all the stars had journeyed down to earth.

Over and through the knottings, I breathed shallowly, as I'd been taught by the Lamaze instructor. Panting as evenly as possible, I worked at undoing each knot, trying to maintain a sense of calm. Panic imperils consciousness, I told myself. Consciousness is required to overcome the pain caused by tension.

I huffed away, squatting on my hands and knees in the center of my mother's carved maple bed as she, poised carefully on the edge, scrutinized the round face of the clock-radio and monitored the passage of time between contractions. The knots were 10 minutes apart. "I think it has to be every 5 minutes," my mother offered. "I'd feel much better," she added, "if you'd let me take you to the hospital."

"Don't be silly, Mom," I said. "you go to work. This is supposed to take eight hours." Why "supposed to"? And why "eight hours"? I wondered. (Perhaps I was associating labor with "work" and assuming that one is supposed to put in an eight-hour work-day. Or perhaps I was recalling my most recent visit with my ob-gyn, who had suggested an appointment the following week. When I mentioned that I was having a baby this weekend, he waved his hand airily and said, "First babies are always late. Make an appointment.")

"Would you like me to wait with you?" Mom asked. I waved her off, reminding her that my friend Nancy had said she'd come stay with me if I needed help. Reluctantly (Did she know? Did we both know?) my gentle-hearted mother left the house.

Within a few moments of her departure, the silent house filled with knotted waves, forming an obstinate bulge in the air around me. A presence, no longer internal, took up the energy in the room and surrounded my body with an invisible casing. I phoned my OB's office. His answering service informed me that he was not yet there, was not available. Not there? Too bad for him, I thought, and ended the conversation without leaving a message. I decided to try him again in a few minutes and, in the meantime, prepare for a trip to the hospital, where I knew I was ultimately expected. I padded off to my room, found the dress my friend Agnese had given me - a durable, once-bright-yellow denim tent, now faded to a pale winter sunbeam - and carried it down the cellar stairs to the ironing board. As I turned on the iron, a viselike bolt gripped my belly, and suddenly I was unable to concentrate on steaming out the wrinkles. Somehow having the presence of mind to turn off the iron, I climbed the stairs to the kitchen and telephoned Nancy, who had just had a baby of her own.

"I think you'd better come over here," I said.

"When?" she wanted to know.

"Oh, I guess in a couple of hours," I replied, laughing.

I went into the living room and held up the afghan that my father's older sister Rose had crocheted. As I leaned over to spread it out on the carpeted floor, a gush of very warm fluid slopped out of my vagina. I fell to my knees, thinking, Ooooh, it will take hours more and the baby will dry up in there with no water. It was my first moment of panicky fear.

The vaginal pressure was enormous: an almost unbearable weight pressed against my labia from the inside out. I had been told to expect a "dogging pain," but was unprepared for the sensation of sexual ecstasy, the voluptuous feeling of penetration. Don't push, I told myself, don't push.

I trekked back to the kitchen to call Nancy again and, without even thinking about it, stuck the middle finger of my right hand up my rectum. As I did, I knew absolutely that what my finger was tracing could only be the skull of a baby. Oh, the baby is coming, I thought.

Quickly, I dialed the number. "Nancy, come now," I begged, feeling an immense distance separating us. Would she believe me? Would she come right away? No, I realized, she would not come right away. In a flash, I saw that no matter when she came, it would be too late.

Hanging up the phone, I felt a single band of tension clamp around me. "Madre de Dios!" I screamed aloud. Not being Catholic did not seem to matter at that moment. "Mother of God," I pleaded silently, "what does it mean, this bearing down that I cannot help?"

I shuffled over to my blanket on the living room carpet. Crouched on my knees on the little afghan, I caught the infant, who rushed from my vagina into the small world between my legs, in the midst of an extraordinary orgasm from the inside out. The child was a boy, and he seemed to cry out as I caught him, "I am here!"

I lifted him to my face, I touched his face with my tongue, aware that I was tasting both him and myself at the same time. The still-attached umbilical cord - a sinewy, dark-magenta rope - curled from his navel and disappeared under the hem of my flannel nightgown. The placenta is still inside me, I thought. We are still one. Pulling my nightgown aside with one hand, I put him to my breast.

It was shortly after 9:00 am, and Nancy had not yet come. With the ponderousness of the umbilical cord uppermost in my mind, I stood up and went off to the kitchen. Fearing, in some utterly primitive way, the presence of the afterbirth still inside me, I phoned Jacqueline, the Algerian-born Frenchwoman who lived in the house behind ours. Within moments, she burst through the back door, her eyes widening with shock when she saw me standing in the middle of the kitchen with a minutes-old infant in my arms.

"Get a knife," I commanded sharply, pointing to the kitchen utensils that sat in a holder beside the gas stove. "Sterilize a knife."

Jacqueline picked out a kitchen knife, and as she reached out to turn on the burner, the knife fell abruptly from her hand. When it clattered to the floor, she recovered her self-control and took command, ordering me off to the living room. I obeyed instantly, and from the other room, I was able to hear her speaking on the phone. Her English, normally excellent, vanished in her excitation, but it quickly surfaced again as she reported an emergency to the operator.

Suddenly, Nancy arrived - followed by a host of others. The first policeman to burst through the front door turned away instantly at the sight of a woman in a faded flannel nightgown, sitting in the middle of the room and cradling a naked newborn in her arms. In a matter of moments, Nancy and Jacqueline were hovering over the woman; two men in blue were standing guard at the front door; and two others, who had summoned an ambulance, were waiting for it to arrive. It came. Mother and child were wrapped in one blanket and carried by stretcher out of the house.

The obstetrician, alerted by the ambulance driver, was waiting just inside the emergency room door. Obviously frustrated and concerned, he began to pour out what appeared to be a multitude of pent-up admonishments: "You should have called me! You could have died..."

From the emergency room table, with Noah still at my breast, I waved my hand airily. "You should congratulate me," I retorted. "I did a good job."

PART II : HIGH COMEDY

Jacob was born at 3:20 am on July 29, 1981. His father and I had spent the previous day hoisting slab lumber from a nearby mill into the back of our old truck, unloading it at home - a very small house we had built ourselves - and setting to work on a privy fence to separate our backyard from the adjacent parksite. Gordon had sunk the posts, and I had nailed the boards up on the crosspieces.

Stopping to enjoy the breezes coming off the lake, we decided to finish leveling off the post the next day. Then we barbecued supper for Noah, his two visiting friends, and ourselves. With the stone barbecue pit I'd made now fully enclosed within the new fence, everything felt fine.

We settled in around 10:00. Gordon and I slept, as usual, in the big bedroom. The children camped out on the front porch in their sleeping bags. Sometime after midnight, I woke up restless and decided to slip into Noah's room and curl up on my side by myself. After a while, I woke up again, this time with amniotic fluid gushing out all over my legs. It was a strange sensation - as hot as urine, but as sudden and uncontrollable as the floosh of menstrual blood.

I was upright in a flash. Where are the contractions? I wondered. I headed for the living room and turned on the light to check the time: just after 3:00 am. Then I padded into the bedroom and turned on the overhead light to wake Gordon. He came awake instantly and pulled his clothes on. Remembering the importance of evacuating before giving birth, I proceeded to the bathroom, but as I sat on the toilet, one protracted contraction tightened around my abdomen. I had perfect recall of that viselike knot, only this time I knew what it meant. Well, that's it, I thought. Too late to evacuate.

Emerging from the bathroom, I reached mentally past the contraction, which had already moved outside me. Gordon, sitting at our old oak dining room table, was madly trying to read the copy of Spiritual Midwifery I had borrowed a few months earlier. "You don't have time for that," I told him.

Then I noticed that he had already set a big pot of water to boil on the stove. "Should I wake the kids?" he asked. Making a quick decision for privacy, I replied, "No, let them sleep." He nodded, and I went back to the bedroom.

While squatting on the bed, I tried to decide what to do. The hospital, a brand new 12-bed building, was less than five minutes away on foot. But I had no time to walk there...or ride there. In fact, I had no time to go there at all. Of that I was quite sure. Then again, there was Eva, the Swedish-trained nurse-midwife whose help I would have liked. But at a party the week before, I had asked her if she would come to the house if I had no time to get to the hospital. Exchanging glances with the head nurse, who was also at the party, Eva seemed to imply that the idea was preposterous. How could anyone not have time to go to a hospital? their glances seemed to say. These back-to-the-land mothers...always trying to have their babies at home!

From my solitary place on the low, wide bed, I swore at the entire medical establishment. I clenched my jaw and deliberately tightened the floor of my pelvis, holding the baby back. Returning to the task at hand, I reasoned: If Eva was not on duty and could not come or, worse yet, was on duty but would not come, I'd be alone again. Gordon would be there, but although he had once been an LPN, he was clearly not prepared for the immediate assignment. I saw no choice; if I wanted someone with me, I'd have to ask Gordon to wake Elly. Elly was our next-door neighbor and an RN. She also kept a sterile kit at home.

I called Gordon, and he came to the bedroom. But when he saw me squatting on my hands and knees, with my naked rump in the air, he turned on his heels, muttering, "Wash my hands..." and rushed off to the bathroom. "Call Elly!" I cried after him.

Even though I was still on my hands and knees, my hearing suddenly became very acute. I could hear Gordon on the phone in the next room: "Glenn? This is Gord. Could you ask Elly to come over. I think the baby's coming."

You think the baby's coming? I echoed to myself. And suddenly, I laughed. I could not help it - the man's hesitation struck me as funny. I laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Suddenly, I was looking down a tunnel the long way around, as if a telescope inside me - that was somehow outside me - was turned backwards.

As I laughed, the baby's head popped out. I tightened my pelvic floor muscles and, turning my head, noticed Gordon at the doorway. Imagining how ludicrous I must have looked, reared up on my haunches with a baby's head sticking out of me, I laughed again. This time, the baby simply fell out into Gordon's out-stretched hands.

"A boy!" he said. The baby who we knew for sure would be a girl did not even mewl. Gordon lay him in my arms. "Hello, darling," I whispered to him just as Elly came into the room. It was 3:15 am.

Elly, having brought her sterile kit, helped Gordon cut the umbilical cord. While he took the now-freed baby to the kitchen sink for a bath, Elly sat comfortably next to me on the bed. Holding a white enamel dishpan, she patiently awaited the expulsion of the placenta. When it emerged, she inspected it carefully, plopped it into the pan, and carried the pan - with its luminous, bloody contents - to the kitchen to show Gordon.

In an instant, the washed and freshly swaddled baby was back in bed, and the bed was remade around us. Literally tucked in, I marveled at the tiny newborn in my arms, the precious fruit of our labors. Leaning back in the clean pillows and savoring the fresh sheets, I looked up gratefully. "This is very civilized," I said appreciatively.

Elly, late-come midwife of the manor, smiled generously. Gord beamed appreciatively. The sky over the lake was just starting to pale.

* * * * * * * *

Note from Laura: After reading this story, I asked Claire (as she likes to be called) why she felt the doctor was so nasty towards her after the birth of her first child. This was her reply:

I had talked with the family OB when I was about 6 months pregnant with Noah, because I'd heard a story about a woman who'd given birth at Drop City (a commune in Colorado in the late '60's) in a circle of people, drumming - the baby was said to have shot out of her across the circle of people...Also I'd seen a film about Eskimo or Inuit people, in which a woman sent her mother out of the shelter when she was about to give birth because (in the film anyway, I haven't checked this out with my Inuit friends) women were supposed to be alone with their infants at the moment of birth - and this woman did it, clearly, on her knees to gain the assistance of gravity. The family OB muttered darkly something about "primitive" (do you think he had seen the film?) so I chose another OB. I don't know exactly why he bawled me out, he never did explain and I never bothered to ask. Maybe he was up tight because he had not recognized that another of his patients was carrying twins until he had her on the delivery table...(she happened to be in the bed next to me)...

There is another piece of this story, however: my mother, at the age of 45, had given birth to my kid sister in the car (the front seat, I believe) on the way to that same hospital. One of the docs who was on duty in the ER when Noah and I were brought in was a family friend, Ben Kurshan, the MD who'd been out playing golf when my sister was born. What I was told was that when he heard about or saw the gurney with Noah and me on it, he went immediately to a phone, called another family friend and said, "Beverly, the Weintraubs did it again!"

* * * * * * * *

This story originally appeared in Mothering Magazine.

]]>Waterbirth! by Cat MajorsLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 20:02:45 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/waterbirth-by-cat-majors52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ec016ce4b038501428af8bMy birth was a "Dream Birth," better than I could have ever imagined. I am
indeed, after two years, still reeling from the exuberant empowerment of
it. I caught Max myself in a bathtub of lovely relaxing warm water - and he
was born in a "laugh," as I was vocalizing a HO - HO - HO sound ( a very
open sound which came instinctually).

My birth was a "Dream Birth," better than I could have ever imagined. I am indeed, after two years, still reeling from the exuberant empowerment of it. I caught Max myself in a bathtub of lovely relaxing warm water - and he was born in a "laugh," as I was vocalizing a HO - HO - HO sound ( a very open sound which came instinctually). My husband was in the kitchen at the time, nervously making and re-making coffee, because he thought that we were going to have to go to the hospital soon! And the midwife was late, too. In fact, she missed the actual 'birth' part. (Nature's way of granting a mother the highest feeling of her life!!)

I'll try to express what I was feeling.

My Birth in Water Was for Me:

A complete, deep and utter relaxation,Cleanliness, refreshment, relief, comfort, Communion with Venus(the Goddess of love and beauty),Playfulness (like a mermaid),Tremendous excitement(to know that the moment of my baby's birth was very near - ANTICIPATION)Wonder - would it be a boy or a girl and what would he or she look like?Initiation into the ranks of MotherhoodCrossing a threshold onto a new plateau.Primal feelings which seemed to reach back into the roots of timeThe sheer simplicity of the healing ritual of the bath/birth itself....My powerMy choiceBeing in Control!!Happiness, freedom, exhilaration, spontaneity, wisdom, luck, destiny.A Sense of CalmnessGood FortunePerfectionCompletionThe sense of time coming full circleComing of AgeBaptism, purification, splendor, rapture, sensuousness, abandonSurrender to a power greater than myself -and yet a feeling of merging appropriately with the Creative POWER -a feeling of being a part of this power -An ultimate WHOLEness.Mother Nature cradling me in her water arms as my pelvic cradle is about to release its CreationCREATIVITYRhythmSound as wave ripplesBuoyancy, lightnessEcstasy, Awe, Gratefulness -A Great FULL-nessCrystal Clear - the water like brilliant diamondsA sense of floating -an "other worldly experience"none other thanBLISS itself!!

]]>Unconditional Faith by Allison and Michael ScimecaLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 20:01:12 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/unconditional-faith-by-allison-and-michael-scimeca52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ec0140e4b03a16b4c641e2Allison: "Unconditional faith" was the theme of my whole pregnancy and
labor. This was my first child and I did not know what to expect at all. I
just followed my intuition, went along with it and knew I was protected by
God. I had read Birth and the Dialogue of Love by Marilyn Moran many times
and it was that book I used for guidance in preparing for a homebirth. The
love and support my husband Michael gave to me throughout my labor was
incredible. I would have never had the same care with anyone else because
no one can care for me the way my husband can. I was relaxed and
comfortable and the mood was perfectly set.Allison: "Unconditional faith" was the theme of my whole pregnancy and labor. This was my first child and I did not know what to expect at all. I just followed my intuition, went along with it and knew I was protected by God. I had read Birth and the Dialogue of Love by Marilyn Moran many times and it was that book I used for guidance in preparing for a homebirth. The love and support my husband Michael gave to me throughout my labor was incredible. I would have never had the same care with anyone else because no one can care for me the way my husband can. I was relaxed and comfortable and the mood was perfectly set.

After labor began, my husband and I took a shower together. From then on we stayed naked. Michael began massaging my perineum. He had done this with such care and intent that I knew I was in competent hands. We sang together, stared in each other's eyes, talked, ate, slept for two hours and before we knew it, 30 hours had elapsed and our child was born.

It was the ultimate climax. I felt open, loose and free. Words cannot explain the feeling as my baby's body slithered out. To this day I can still sense that wonderful feeling inside. It makes me tingle.

I'm a very tiny girl (100 pounds) and I gave birth to a beautiful son weighing approximately 8 and 1/2 pounds and did not rip. We only had a bathroom scale available to weigh our new son. Having contractions five minutes apart for most of the 30 hours of labor, I can only imagine what they would have done to me if I would have been in the hospital.

I believe God always knows what is best and therefore chose to never interfere with His intelligence. Many people commented on how alert, perceptive and aware our baby was as an infant and it was very obvious to me that this was indeed true. I believe the way we welcomed him into the world was solely responsible for this. From conception to birth I was surrounded with love and faith that childbirth is a most beautiful and natural process and now I know from experience that this is definitely true.

Michael: Before we knew that we were having our first child, my wife Allison and I decided we wanted to have a homebirth. When she suggested that I too be naked during the labor, I knew right then that there would be no midwife. Fortunately, we share the same philosophy of honoring the life force. Having a homebirth was never debated.

Our birth was to be a very intimate and sacred event. To prepare for this we packed a picnic which included warm water, grape juice, raisins, plums and bananas. We had a crock-pot on hand so that I was able to keep applying heat to her perineum which she instinctively wanted. We spread newspaper throughout our house in order to not confine ourselves to any one specific room. It was our understanding that freedom to move about wherever Allison felt she wanted to be at any given time was an important accommodation. This showed itself to be true when toward the end of our labor, Allison had an impulsive "urge" to stand in our bathtub, at which time she immediately and conveniently broke her water.

The most important job I had was supporting my wife by letting her know how beautiful she was and how wonderful everything was going. During the contractions, which were never more or less than five minutes apart, I applied heat to her perineum, performed the massage and encouraged her to breathe and not to push. Her main request was that while I performed my duties that I look her straight in the eyes. It was also my job between contractions to make sure that she moved around and had enough fluids on hand to drink.

The theme of our birth which we vocally affirmed throughout was "unconditional faith." At one point I walked into the bathroom and observed Allison with one foot on the bathtub and the other foot on the toilet bowl, hanging onto the shower curtain rod and singing. I knew this to be a most unusual occurrence for a childbirth and could do nothing but join her in song. As strange as this sounds, it was a lot of fun.

Many times Allison and I kissed and caressed each other. It was incredible! This was without a doubt the most romantic and sexiest moments we had ever shared. We did not videotape this event, which probably added to the intimacy we shared. We had candles burning during the evening to provide our only source of light. We had previously selected music to play softly in the background. I put a "do not disturb" sign on our front door and periodically changed the message on the answering machine to update those concerned friends and family members who were calling. We turned the ringer off and never knew when a call was coming in. This was our moment! We believe having such reverence for the process of childbirth was the main factor as to why Allison and I had such a pleasant experience.

We do not believe that it was a coincidence that our wedding song was playing when our baby's head popped out into the world. Five minutes later my new son and I had our first game of catch. I caught him! It was instantaneous and he seemed to "shoot out" after the shoulders were delivered. The placenta was delivered 11 minutes later at which point my wife let out a big "sigh" seeing that she was no longer physically connected to her baby that she had carried around and bonded with for nine months. It was then that I realized that it would be best for her to cut the umbilical cord. She did so about an hour later. It was appropriate and very symbolic.

According to the clock it was a 30 hour labor. To this day, Allison and I are certain that it was the fastest 30 hours we had ever spent. Having a homebirth was the only way to go. Our son is now 17 months old and very healthy. He is our pride and joy and is still living on his mother's milk.

To say that this experience strengthened our marriage is an understatement. I believe that if people found it in their hearts to have a homebirth there would be less divorce, less child abuse and a positive step toward world peace would be made. To deny families their right of experiencing this once in a lifetime event is sure to have an effect on everyone involved. I believe that if you can truly not come from a place of fear and make an educated informed choice, which honors your true beliefs, that the end result can be nothing less than the miracle that childbirth is. This was only our first birth experience and we are looking forward to having many more homebirths in the future.

PART TWO

Allison: This was my second pregnancy and, as with our first child, my husband, Michael, and I decided to have another unassisted childbirth. This time, we were hoping to have someone with us, our 2 1/2 year old son, Anthony. We prepared him well for the event. We had "undress rehearsals" and continually educated him on what to expect.

This pregnancy was different from my first. Michael, and I were more intimately connected with each other. With Anthony's birth, we had learned to trust in nature as we surrendered to what was to be a successful thirty hour labor. This time, we were more physically active and did less observing and more participating.

I was a lot more educated with Angela's birth. For instance, I studied the three stages of labor in depth. With Anthony, I had little knowledge of the stages. I also explored myself and was more in tune with my physical and emotional feelings. The connection to Michael was obvious as I was able to openly express exactly what I was feeling. I visualized the way the baby was lying inside me and felt deeply connected with her as well, realizing that although we were two different people, we were bonded together in a relationship that will never end.

Two weeks before I went into labor, I was in the bathtub and was able to feel the baby's head internally. It was an amazing feeling knowing that I had a fully developed person inside me and that we were only separated by tissue.

We were all just waiting.

On January 31, I woke up with a burst of energy. That evening, I put my son to bed at 9:30 after reading him a story. I got up ten minutes later and instantly felt a warm sensation in my lower back. It felt like a big hand was holding onto my tailbone. It was a familiar feeling - I had also experienced it during my first labor. I called Michael at work. "This could be the night," I said. I tried to lay down to get some rest but was too excited. It was now 10:00, and the sensations were getting stronger.

At 10:30, the sensations inspired me to squat up against the couch. I experienced an energy that was not a contraction but very pleasurable. At the same time Michael came home and saw that I was totally in tune with myself. We hung around downstairs for about an hour and a half packing our picnic and gathering anything else we might need. We knew that once we went upstairs to our bedroom we were not going to come back down. We then went upstairs.

Since our first labor had lasted thirty hours, we took our time getting ready. However, things seemed to be moving along quickly this time and we had yet to prepare our bed with plastic sheets or cover the pillows. Soon the sensations became stronger and more frequent. When the sensations came, I felt my actions were well orchestrated. At times I sat up, rocked back and forth, hummed, concentrated on connecting to my breath, and relaxed. When Michael joined me in an aroma oil bath, the love between us became apparent.

When we got out of the tub, we went straight to the bed where I got on all fours. Michael got underneath me and we kissed and caressed each other. At times he would rub my back. We even had intercourse and were both reaching climax when I felt the baby right there. I had an urge to go to the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet, I had my first real contraction. It was big, strong, intense, and pleasurable. As I hung onto Michael's shoulders, I had another one. It felt so great to just hang there and have gravity weigh me down. I had another contraction and this time actually felt the baby rapidly drop down into the birth canal. I reached down to check my progress and to my surprise felt the head right there.

We walked over to the bed where I had Michael perform the perineal massage. I held back the baby's head. I did not want to rip. "Lubricate me. This baby is going to fly out," I said. On the fourth contraction the head came out. I felt this enormous build up of pressure inside. It was the water bag that had not yet broken.

When her head was out I could feel her kicking inside me. I knew that I was building up to an ultimate climax and was anxious for the release. Another contraction came, but only her arm popped out. Michael felt her neck to make sure the cord wasn't around it. As he did, I had another contraction. Wow! Out she came along with all the amniotic fluid. Michael was caught up in the emotional beauty of the whole event as I had the biggest, sexiest orgasmic release of my life. He was crying and I was panting. We looked at the clock and could not believe it was only 2:10 a.m. I sat up on the bed. My placenta came out right away and Angela proceeded to nurse for 20 minutes on each breast.

At 4:00 a.m. we cut the cord and by 4:30 we were snuggled up in bed with our precious Angela Jule between us. "Boy, does our son have a surprise to wake up to in the morning," I thought. We closed our eyes and fell asleep thinking of the miracle we had created through an act of love that was now complete.

There - that has answered most of the questions one tends to ask, but doesn't even begin to explain the incredible arrival of our first grandson. He wasn't exactly an immaculate conception, but Sam has chosen to bring him up herself, for the present anyway. His father Erik is living in Hawaii, but is keeping in touch.

As you probably know already, Sam has chosen to live a slightly different way of life from most of us. She has pretty well rejected structured society so most of what she does is somewhat unconventional, including motherhood. During pregnancy, she kept very fit, gathering the herbs she needed for teas recommended for pregnant mothers. She ate organically, on the whole, except for occasional binges on Ben & Jerry's ice cream. She stretched and exercised so that her body put on virtually no bulk, except for a huge watermelon bulge in the front. From the back one could hardly tell she was pregnant.

By the time she was 7 months pregnant, I had to absorb the fact that she wanted neither doctor nor midwife at the birth. She was going to do this herself, as mothers have done for thousands of years. She wanted me to be there, but I knew I couldn't unless I could get rid of my own anxieties and all the questions of "what if?".

As it turned out, I went down a month early as Sam had a false alarm. This was great as she and I had time to read various childbirth books together, to talk a lot, to ask questions of a local 85 year-old midwife and for me to learn more about her life style and philosophy. It was extraordinary how much unlearning I had to do to feel comfortable with the idea of unassisted childbirth. I also had time to help her get her nest ready.

She wanted a private place to birth, as the house she and her friends share has only two large rooms and often 10 or 12 people living there. She finally had to reject the idea of digging herself a round house with a dome of old bottles. There wasn't enough time and I put my foot down about her doing heavy work the last month. The old teepee poles, sitting in a nearby field, started her thinking about that as a possible nest, which was confirmed when two of the girls came home from a trip having been given a very ancient teepee cover, bearing the words, "Buffalo River Fur Trading Co." Sam immediately started trying to mend the holes and paint out the sign, which was somewhat offensive for a vegetarian.

She got the cover into the poles, but the first night we tried sleeping in it we nearly froze to death. The wind howled through and under the sides. Hay bales were needed to block some of the wind. Then blankets were needed to create a sort of lining which Sam found at a thrift store in Sante Fe for $10. Next stones were carefully selected in the stream and dragged up the hill to create the firepit. Sand was brought from a nearby river, to protect the surrounds of the firepit. Sam made beautiful mobiles of driftwood, which she had collected over the year. Friends of hers sent other mobiles and made dreamcatchers for her to hang in the teepee. The night the last thoughtful detail was finished, she started labour.

I had gone to bed early in a little tent I had found that morning in the woods. It belonged to one of Sam's friends and had blown half a mile away in the storm. I set it up fairly near the teepee in case Sam needed me. Late that night she and her friend Brad had decided to light the first fire in the teepee and play the drums. Around 2 a.m. I heard Brad calling me, "Mama, I think Sam needs you." She had had two contractions and was already having them close together. Brad went to fetch water, a pan, olive oil and my emergency bag, which I had been carrying around in the car, wherever we went. He took the dogs away, and Sam asked him if he minded leaving as well. There were just the two of us. I stoked the fire, then sat behind Sam so she could rest on me between contractions. I have never felt closer to a human being in my life.

For the final stage of labour, Sam chose to be on hands and knees, with her butt facing the fire. This was when her waters broke. I busied myself keeping the fire going, which provided not only enough heat, but also reasonable light. I washed her, oiled her and got the necessary things together. I was able to give her a progress account as Birdie began to come into the world. She was concentrating hard on not pushing, as she wanted him to enter under his own steam. She did beautifully. At one stage she was singing what seemed to be an old Indian chant. After his head had crowned, she asked me to oil her again. I said it was pretty impossible to do a good job of it, because his head was pressing on the perineum. Amazingly, she was able to let him slip back inside, and allow me to apply more olive oil. She was so well basted by the time she gave birth that she didn't tear at all.

I had one moment of "Oh help!" which almost immediately left me as I looked up at all the evidence of love, support and affirmation, hanging in the teepee. I knew that nothing could go wrong in such surroundings. That "knowing" was very powerful.

I was protecting his head from the heat of the fire, when he slipped into my hands. His fingers unfurled from his chest like young ferns. He appeared down to his waist, then Sam decided to have a rest! There was nothing wrong with his lusty cry. He soon found his fist and was trying to suck. For about five minutes he remained half born, then with a whoosh, he arrived completely into the world.

When we figured out how to get Birdie to Sam's arms, without too many gymnastics, we just hugged and cried together. I then tried to cover her with warm blankets as she was shaking with effort and feeling cold. She was also hungry. I went to get tea and oatmeal from the house. They were all sleeping except for one of the boys, who helped me find what I needed, and another who sleepily murmured "Wow! Oh, awesome!" I went to the car to see what time it was. It was 5:15 a.m. The full moon was still in the sky. We think that Birdie was born about 4:45, which meant that labour lasted between two and two and a half hours. We only had the moon to go by so we weren't too sure. The whole process was so beautiful, mystical and natural that time keeping was not an issue.

Sam was looking more comfortable when I returned and drank and ate. Birdie was peaceful with only the odd fussing, now and then. We waited for the placenta to be born. When it was, I tied the knot as instructed by the old midwife and Sam cut the cord. There was not a drop left in it.

I have never seen such a beautiful morning. I walked back to the house to tell the family the news as the sun rose, flooding the hills with rich amber light beneath the setting full moon. The world was glowing.

Sam was born by Caesarian Section, almost entirely due to the fact that the doctor wanted to induce me so that he could go on holiday. I feel utterly blessed that I have had the opportunity to experience birth with Sam, finally, after 21 years. We both felt that the situation could not have been better.

]]>Our Way by Donn and Jean Reed, 1996Laura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:59:01 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/our-way-by-donn-and-jean-reed-199652cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ec00ace4b0b205affdb608Donn: When Jean and I were expecting our first baby, in 1966, there was
very little literature about natural birth. We had read enough to know that
we wanted an undrugged birth, but we took for granted the "necessity" of
birth in a hospital. From the beginning, we felt that both the pregnancy
and the birth were ours, together. All we asked was permission for me to be
present during the labor and delivery. "Oh, no," the doctor said, "we have
enough problems without having fainting husbands all over the floor."Donn: When Jean and I were expecting our first baby, in 1966, there was very little literature about natural birth. We had read enough to know that we wanted an undrugged birth, but we took for granted the "necessity" of birth in a hospital. From the beginning, we felt that both the pregnancy and the birth were ours, together. All we asked was permission for me to be present during the labor and delivery. "Oh, no," the doctor said, "we have enough problems without having fainting husbands all over the floor."

So Jean and I decided, tentatively, to have the baby at home. We began studying all the books we could find on childbirth, gynecology, and relaxation techniques (mainly yoga). We left the question of "where" open to the last minute. We bought and familiarized ourselves with the few supplies necessary for a homebirth, but kept our suitcases packed, ready to throw into the car. If either of us felt even a little insecure or worried about having the baby at home, we'd go to the hospital.

The time came and we felt fine. We tingled with anticipation and quiet excitement. The labor was a typical 18 hour, first baby labor: tiring, but completely without pain. Throughout the labor, I stayed with Jean, rubbing her back, moistening her lips, and being a brace for her legs - except for a few times when I tried to find food for myself. Each time I put on a pot of coffee or a pan of beans, another contraction began and I ran back to help.

Cathy was born in a little log cabin in northern Vermont, forty miles from the nearest hospital. She began nursing right away, while I massaged Jean's uterus to reduce the possibility of excessive bleeding. The only thing that went wrong with Cathy's birth was that I burned three pans of beans and boiled away six pots of coffee.

Karen was born in 1968, in our home in Vermont, with six feet of snow drifted outside the windows. This birth was not only painless, but very actively pleasurable. We had never read about this aspect of birth, and it took us both by surprise. What a long way from the pain and agony of conventional myth! (Years later, a sympathetic doctor said, "Yes, I've seen it a few times. It may even be that many women have orgasms during birth, but interpret them as pain - because the sensations are more intense than anything they've experienced previously, and because they have been conditioned to expect pain.")

Susan was born in 1970, and Derek, in 1972, both in a log cabin in the mountainous Central Interior of British Columbia, also forty miles from the nearest hospital. Both births were a lot of work, but relatively easy, completely painless, and physically pleasurable.

Active fatherhood - that is, participating as a full partner in parenting - has many rewards, but one of the greatest is hearing that first little cry of "Hello" and of cradling the new son or daughter even before he or she is fully born.

Jean nursed each of the babies for at least a year. For the first six weeks or more, we never put the babies down or left them alone; we always held them, carried them, and cuddled them. They never woke up crying, wondering where they - or we - were.

"It's good for them to cry," several neighbors and relatives told us. "It develops their lungs." Others told us, "You give them too much attention. It isn't good for them. They'll become too dependent on you." The babies slept with us, despite the many warnings (from people who had never tried it) that "You'll roll on the baby in your sleep!"

Jean: We hadn't planned this aspect of parenting. The fact is, Cathy was born in October and with our wood heating system, the house got cold at night. My mother sent a beautiful wooden crib, we had enough baby blankets to keep ten babies warm, but when that first night came we just didn't feel right with Cathy away from us. After all, we had held her all day. How would we know if she woke up and felt alone or came uncovered? Before she was born her every need was filled. Now she had lost her automatic climate control and feeding system, her eyes took in images she couldn't understand, noises were different, her body, once continually cradled, could now flop around uncontrollably, she had to breathe on her own . . . . so many new experiences all at once. Her only true comfort - us.

We instinctively learned to cat-nap. . . deep sleep with complete relaxation when Cathy slept, and instant awareness if she moved or needed to be fed, and being next to us we knew she would be warm.

Donn: When the baby became hungry during the night, Jean had only to turnover, still half-asleep, help the baby find the nipple, and doze off again. No fumbling for the light switch, no grumbling at being awakened, no crying, no frustration.

There was only one instance when it didn't quite work - that is, not right away. I woke up enough to hear Cathy's murmur of hunger change to a cry of indignation, and I turned on the bedside light to see why Jean wasn't feeding her. Jean, still asleep, was trying with great determination to put her nipple into Cathy's ear.

Cathy was visiting neighbors with her grandmother when Karen was born, so she missed the birth - by just a few minutes. Both Cathy and Karen were with us during Susan's birth, and all three welcomed Derek into the world.

Jean: Donn and I felt that childbirth was a natural event, as much a part of normal living for humans as it was for animals. We believed this very strongly even before we became pregnant.

Donn and I felt as close as two people possibly can, and when we did become pregnant, we felt that the baby was a natural part of our unity. Birth, we felt, involved all three of us, together.

Except for tales of people not being able to get to a hospital in the old days, we were unaware that home birth was a sensible option. It was only after we were told by our doctor that Donn would not be allowed to stay with me through our birth that we decided to look into home birth.

We found a few books. (The best in my opinion was and still is Dr. Robert Bradley's Husband Coached Childbirth.) We thought about birth down through the ages. We watched our animals give birth with serenity; labor without pain. We decided that all things being well, as far as we could determine, we would have our baby at home so we could be together.

We felt we needed the extra security of a professional opinion regarding health and safety for me and the baby. We found a new doctor, one who would answer our many questions, insure as far as possible that there were no physical problems, and respect our decision to do it at home. There were no midwives in our area.

Our doctor suggested books! We read and studied. I was overweight and started a diet, counting calories and carefully balancing my nutritional intake. I continued with my yoga program and I truly believe that the relaxation and meditation techniques allowed me to be truly relaxed, open and willingly receptive to the process of birth.

I was lucky. With each of our four children, I had about a month of Braxton-Hicks contractions coming every other day for an hour or two. Nice gentle practice: warm-up exercises. The only problem with that was trying to decide if I was really in labor. Could we go to town or visiting or should we stay at home, just in case.

Cathy, the first baby, came easily just as Donn said. I worked hard but the labor was so gradually progressive I could easily stay totally relaxed, totally focused inward on all the new and different sensations of all the muscles working in harmony to perform the job they were designed to do without interruption. I believe that the total trust in my body, in the natural process, in Donn, and the ability to completely relax while looking inward, much like deep mediation without effort, made this birth feel like work, but without any strain or pain.

We put the camera out with the birth supplies. We forgot it. My only regret over the years is that I didn't take a picture of Donn holding Cathy right after she was born. Like a variation of the Madonna and child, Donn glowed. He was totally enraptured. He was so completely caught up in the experience, that when I asked him if we had a girl or a boy, he just stared at me. To him it was of no importance. He hadn't looked!

Karen came as differently as could be. While Cathy had come gently and gradually, Karen, I swear, came by pushing with her feet. I had the usual warm-up contractions on and off for a month. The day she was born I had contractions just before lunch and knowing we were close to the birthing time, I fixed lunch for Donn, Cathy, and Donn's mother. (Mother came and stayed with us to take care of Cathy while I was in labor so Donn and I could concentrate on the birth. We expected it to be shorter, but didn't feel we could give Cathy, two years old, all the attention she might need without interrupting my concentration.) I didn't think I should eat until the contractions stopped, just in case. I decided that it was probably "for real" while cleaning up.

Mother took Cathy to the neighbor's and planned to come back in an hour. Shortly after they left I began to feel the urge to push. I told Donn and he laughed at me and said he'd start getting things ready soon. I told him I didn't think we should wait. He humored me. I know he was humoring me. As he got up to start fixing the bed with me, I told him that with the next contraction I was going to lie down and he could humor me just a bit more and see what was happening. I did, and he did. The baby was beginning to crown! We did get the bed set, just barely. By that time the contractions were really strong. I love the urge to push. It's so right. I don't think there is anything else in the world that is so totally compelling and feels so totally right. I had two pushing contractions on the bed and Karen came into the world, with the bag of waters still intact, and with the most incredible orgasm that just kept going and going! It took both of us totally by surprise. Just like our love-making, it was a feeling of Life celebrating Life. It seemed so very unfair that Donn couldn't be a part of it too.

Susan and Derek were born with slightly longer labors, but with the same joyous orgasm at the end.

We tried telling people about our experience. Most thought us liars. A few women patted me condescendingly on the shoulder and told me I really didn't have to make up stories. . . they knew the truth.

To those few who have been truly interested and asked what I thought made for such extraordinary experiences, I would say, the ability to feel completely relaxed and at one with myself, my sexuality, the natural process of birth, my husband, and a belief in the wonder of the universe!

]]>Quinn's Waterbirth by Jeannine Parvati Baker, 1986Laura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:57:47 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/quinns-waterbirth-by-jeannine-parvati-baker-198652cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ec0074e4b0b1000e2c0f86I have no fear of birth. That's a gift as well as an earned trust. From the
moment the bloody show comes, I know my babies will arrive within several
hours. All my other babies have been born on the full moon (or within
hours). How did I know the deliveries would be graced? The same way that I
knew I was pregnant so early on. The brain-heart knows. And once the
monkey-mind quiets down enough, all the information we need is right here,
within.I have no fear of birth. That's a gift as well as an earned trust. From the moment the bloody show comes, I know my babies will arrive within several hours. All my other babies have been born on the full moon (or within hours). How did I know the deliveries would be graced? The same way that I knew I was pregnant so early on. The brain-heart knows. And once the monkey-mind quiets down enough, all the information we need is right here, within.

Now to practice the inward skills once again. We are back home in Utah, just finishing un-packing. It is a sunny and clear day. Rico is working in our basement, our home office of Freestone Innerprizes. I have just written a letter to Marilyn Moran, author of Birth and the Dialogue of Love, my favorite birth book this pregnancy. I feel the bloody show slip through.

This is my first labor in the daytime. All four babies previously had initiated their labors at midnight and come before or just at dawn.

IT SEEMED SO NAKED, SO OBVIOUS TO GIVE BIRTH IN THE DAYTIME. I SUBMERGE ALL MODESTY AND GIVE MYSELF TO BIRTH.

Being the empiricist that I am, I must try the various stages of labor in and out of the water bath. Does the water really help? In earlier labor there seemed to be little difference. Except that I can more easily kiss and hug my family on dry land than in our tiny bathtub. But once we move towards transition, I note marked change out of the water. The gifts become LABOR PAINS, out of the bath, while in the warm water the birthforce JUST FEELS STRONG. Even up to the second stage I am getting in and out of the tub to feel the difference. Each time I carefully wash my feet to keep the water clean. Oh yes, THE WATER DEFINITELY HELPS TRANSFORM PAIN INTO URGENT PRESSURE.

Gannon, now four years old, comes into the tub at transition. He squirts a rubber dolphin bathtub toy at me. We giggle together.

I feel the baby come down. The sensation is ecstatic. I had prepared somewhat for this being as painful as my last delivery had been. Yet this time the pulse of birth feels wonderful! I am building up to the birth climax after nine months of pleasurable foreplay. With one push the babe is in the canal. THE NEXT PUSH BRINGS HIM DOWN, DOWN INTO THAT SPACE JUST BEFORE ORGASM WHEN WE WOMEN KNOW HOW GOD MUST HAVE FELT CREATING THIS PLANET.

The water supports my birth outlet. I AM NO LONGER ALONE IN THIS WORK. I FEEL CONNECTED TO THE MAINLAND, TO MY SOURCE. THESE MIDWIFE HANDS KNOW JUST WHAT TO DO TO SUPPORT THE NOW CROWNING HEAD, coming so fast. How glad I am for all those years of orgasms! Slow orgasms, fast ones, those which build and subside and peak again and again. That practice aids my baby's gentle emergence so that he doesn't spurt out too quickly. HE COMES, AS DO I.

I slip my fingers around his neck, and what's this? Ah, a little hand. I hold back this hand as he rotates and delivers first one shoulder, then the other. OUT SLIPS OUR BABY INTO HIS PARENTS HANDS. HE SWIMS RIGHT INTO OUR HEARTS.

Some water babies stay submerged after delivery for minutes but mine wanted to come to the surface immediately. He turns and faces me, eyes shut, and says, "Lift me up!"

I pull my baby up to the surface and drape a towel over his head. Gradually he opens one eye, then the other to gaze in wonder. He isn't breathing perceptibly so I hug him all the closer and sing the welcoming song. He is warm and his color is coming in so I do not worry as we await his first perceptible breath. I kiss his face, gently sucking out the mucus in his airways through his nose and mouth. We ADORE him.

The placenta, or the "Grandmother" as we like to call our babies' first mother, delivers itself minutes later. How easy clean-up is when birthing in the bathtub! Most all the blood clots fall to the bottom of the tub, whose water is bright red now. I RECALL THE STORY OF MOSES AND THE PARTING OF THE RED SEA. MY POST-PARTUM BODY FEELS AS IF MOSES HAD JUST BEEN THROUGH ME WITH THE CHOSEN ONES.

Was it the water which made this birth so ecstatic and sexually fulfilling? I would like to shout, "IT'S THE WATER!" but must admit, only possibly so. It is a lot easier for me to interpret the birthforce as blissful gifts when contractions don't hurt Yet in all honesty, I don't really know for sure. This is the way it is with birth - it doesn't lend itself to repeatable experiment well. Each birth is totally unique. I just remember that when Quinn came into my birth canal there was no way I would forsake the comfort of the bath.

In closing, let me say that it is a pity that we women quit having babies just when we are getting good at giving birth. This last childbirth I did have my vision quest fulfilled. At Quinn's emergence I SAW every woman on this earth giving birth like I was doing - in ecstasy, with her lover and in the sanctity of home. To this vision, I pledge my total commitment.

Wishing YOU a blissful birthing in all ways.

]]>Another Ordinary Birth by Laurie MorganLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:56:32 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/another-ordinary-birth-by-laurie-morgan52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ec0028e4b0502c0558fb8eFriends and family keep telling me that they're eager to hear the story of
my son John's birth. I've been having a difficult time figuring out what to
write though, because besides the arrival of another incredible child into
our lives, there wasn't much to write about outside those little details
that mothers can't help but remember, and love to ramble on about. He was
born at about 9:10, the morning of July 18th, 2001. I had felt strong and
regular contractions from about the time that I first began feeling little
Johnny's first kicks, but the time between my first awareness that birth
was close and the actual birth itself, was fairly short.Friends and family keep telling me that they're eager to hear the story of my son John's birth. I've been having a difficult time figuring out what to write though, because besides the arrival of another incredible child into our lives, there wasn't much to write about outside those little details that mothers can't help but remember, and love to ramble on about. He was born at about 9:10, the morning of July 18th, 2001. I had felt strong and regular contractions from about the time that I first began feeling little Johnny's first kicks, but the time between my first awareness that birth was close and the actual birth itself, was fairly short.

About a week or maybe more before John's birth, the contractions became gradually stronger, and there was one evening there where they came within minutes of each other for a few hours before they went back to being spaced a half hour or more apart. Then during the night before he was to be born, I woke up from the strength of the contractions -- maybe five or six in all. I wasn't hurting, just very aware of the intensity of the muscle action in my belly and the familiar catch in my breath, and simply couldn't sleep through it. I woke up fully that morning when my husband's alarm clock rang (about 7:00), and snuggled up to his warm back after he hit the snooze button. I told him then what had been going on in the night and he asked if today was going to be "the" day.

At that point I wasn't 100% sure and said that he probably ought to stay home, at least for the morning, to see how I would feel later on. So we lingered in bed a while, snuggling and whispering. We made love, and snuggled some more, and eventually headed downstairs to get some food. I suspected weeks before, that I would want french toast and coffee for breakfast the day this baby was to be born, and sure enough that sounded just right. So John (who makes my favorite french toast) set to work at the stove, while I relaxed in a comfy chair at our kitchen table where we could chat.

I had a couple of contractions seated there at the table, while he was cooking and then while I ate, and during one of those my water broke. At some point I brought out a new shower curtain and the same flannel sheet that my third daughter Cierra was born on, and laid it at my feet on the kitchen floor. John asked me if I was really going to give birth in the kitchen and at first I thought yes -- it was really cozy there between the table and stove -- but after thinking how the hard floor might make my knees ache after a while, I decided no, and moved the sheets to my living room floor in front of the window bench.

The bench was just the right height for me to kneel in front of and rest my upper chest and head on. This position allowed me to relax really well while not blocking my baby's progress, which felt important. By then the contractions were very strong, and while we never timed them, I'm quite sure they were irregularly spaced until the very end. I really didn't want to hurt, so I focused intently on relaxing completely and opening up. My third daughter, Cierra's birth was very quick and almost painless, but throughout it I was aware that I was resisting and not allowing it to happen as fast as I knew it could. Ever since then, I had been asking myself why I had tensed up, and wondering what I could do the next time to avoid that. I never did come up with an answer or plan, but I did know that my fear of pain had something to do with it, and that the remedy was relaxation.

So this time, relax is what I did! I didn't do anything special, no meditations or breathing techniques, I simply thought as each contraction came on, "Okay, now I just need to relax and let this happen," and I did. I consciously chose to focus on what was happening -- my baby was moving down and coming out -- and released the tension in all the muscles I could feel, over and over as each contraction came. All in all I probably had less than ten there in the living room, but time seems to stall when I'm in the middle of labor. At one point a contraction began hurting, and I told John plaintively that I didn't want it to hurt. We talked a bit about that, and I remarked at how strange it is that I am so concerned about such a short and small amount of pain, but I am. I jokingly said that it was unfair that I had to "suffer through this" while he got to simply wait and have the joy of a baby at the end. I know some people would consider it "wimpy", but I just don't want to hurt!

Ironically, it was John who got tired and sore, because after that painful contraction I asked him to put pressure on my lower back. I was having back labor I guess, but once he got positioned in the right spot, his whole 190 lbs resting on those two little spots beside my tailbone, all the pain went away! I actually had the thought, "It's like I'm cheating! I wished for it, and all the pain went to John!" I liked feeling the labor in my back even better than my other labors where any sensation of pain was focused in my belly. I had never found such a "magic spot" to put pressure on, to relieve the pain there, at least. A few times John went to shift his weight or move, and I immediately protested, "No! No, keep pushing!" until he did.

So all this happened in a matter of minutes and I had already been bearing down from before the time my water broke in the kitchen. At some point I turned sideways to the window seat and rested my hands and sometimes my head on the floor. When the baby's head began to emerge I reached down to feel and thought sure I was touching something other than a head. What I felt was wrinkled and lumpy, and I remembered my girls' heads all being smooth and rounded so I asked John, "What is that? It doesn't feel like a head." But he assured me that it was indeed a head, and I kept pushing. For some reason I felt an instinctual urgency to get the baby out at this point, though it wasn't fear. I didn't feel like something was wrong, just like the baby needed to come out now.

As soon as his head was all the way out to the neck I reached down with both my hands and said out loud, "Pull him out." Then I felt a burning sensation toward my back and assumed John was indeed pulling the baby upward, so I instructed, "No, not up, pull down!" Later I asked him about this and he said that he hadn't pulled, but tried to find an armpit to hook his finger under and that's probably what burned. Anyway, with some gentle tugging from both of us, the rest of this warm, wet baby wiggled out. It didn't take more than a few seconds, but it also wasn't as slippery-quick as the way my daughters had all slid out fast after the head, and that was kind of interesting.

I don't remember the exact order in which things happened after that, but we had rested baby right between my knees so I simply sat back. I picked him up and rested him on my chest, and John turned off the ceiling fan and brought me a towel to keep us warm. Somewhere in there, this little baby stuck his thumb right into his own mouth and started sucking like an old pro, which surprised me some at first, but then I remembered feeling an odd pressure near my pubic bone many times during the pregnancy. Two months later he still sucks his thumb, and now I suspect that he had been thumb sucking all along.

At some point John also lifted up a little leg to discover that our newborn baby was a boy! This was our Johnny -- John Preston Morgan the third to be exact -- who'd been named long, long ago and whom we'd felt sure was coming to us some day. We were shocked! After three beautiful baby girls, we just gave birth to a boy. And so fast! I hadn't calculated a "due date" (knew they were no more accurate than guessing by the size of my growing belly) and right up to the night before I felt that I could easily stay pregnant another month, so the timing was a wonderful surprise as well. All week long after his birth I marveled that our baby was "already" here.

Little John's actual birth date also turns out to be rather remarkable, because big John and the first born (all boys) of his aunt and cousin on his mother's side, were born on the 18th of their birth months. Also, for three generations, the only boys born on big John's father's side of the family were on the years ending in 1 (as in, his father in 1951, his uncle in 1961, himself in 1971, and now his son in 2001), though many girls were born in the family in other years except those.

Once we snapped out of our initial reverie, we remembered that the girls were still sleeping. So John ran and woke them so that they could come meet their new baby brother. Instantly Christiana (6) and Angelica (4) bounced and bubbled down the stairs, and just about burst with excitement and joy at the sight of him. Cierra (2), our little budding actress, sat down next to me and put on a face of mild amusement. She wasn't upset, but was and remains unimpressed about her new little brother; always hugging and kissing and cooing and protesting her love for him, but never getting quite so giddy and silly about it as the other girls.

We took some pictures then, and moved to the sofa across the room, where we snuggled and talked excitedly to and about baby Johnny. Eventually I felt contractions again, and pushed the placenta out onto the towel I was sitting on. I didn't have anything prepared to tie the cord with, because I had sort of hoped to wait to cut it until after it was dried enough that we wouldn't need to tie it at all. But John feels better having our babies' cords tied, so after a few hours with the placenta sitting wrapped next to us, he convinced me to finally fish something out of my sewing box. So our beautiful little boy ended up with a pink ribbon on his belly for a few days. We left the cord stump alone and it dropped off Saturday morning, two days later.

That's all there was to the wonderfully ordinary birth of our fourth child, our first son, John. Many friends and acquaintances have remarked to me since then, that I am "so brave" to give birth without monitoring and interference from outsiders, but I must disagree. It takes no courage to sit back and enjoy something so natural, simple and safe. What takes courage sometimes, as one of my neighbors pointed out, is to do what you know is right and best for you, despite a lack of support or understanding from friends, family, and society in general. But that is something that we all have the capacity to do, and I hope my story encourages others to do the same.

]]>An Ordinary Miracle by Laurie MorganLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:55:22 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/an-ordinary-miracle-by-laurie-morgan52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebffd6e4b0910b8fe77cf5I’ve started to notice recently that childbirth is sometimes referred to as
an “ordinary miracle.” The recent experience of my third daughter’s birth
really fits that description to a tee. It’s only been three weeks since our
little one’s arrival, and yet I’ve already struggled with how to explain
how beautifully simple, peaceful, and just…well…normal this birth was. At
around my seventh month I wrote in my pregnancy journal, “I've been
thinking that it may be difficult to write up this little one's birth story
when the time comes, because it will be so simple!” I imagined it would all
go something like this, “I had some contractions, baby came out, we all
celebrated, the end!” I was so right! I’ve started to notice recently that childbirth is sometimes referred to as an “ordinary miracle.” The recent experience of my third daughter’s birth really fits that description to a tee. It’s only been three weeks since our little one’s arrival, and yet I’ve already struggled with how to explain how beautifully simple, peaceful, and just…well…normal this birth was. At around my seventh month I wrote in my pregnancy journal, “I've been thinking that it may be difficult to write up this little one's birth story when the time comes, because it will be so simple!” I imagined it would all go something like this, “I had some contractions, baby came out, we all celebrated, the end!” I was so right!

My body had been preparing quite well for its third birthing day for a long time. I was still nursing my second daughter Angelica through this pregnancy, and so wasn’t surprised at all to start having good, strong contractions at around four months, just as I had with my previous pregnancy. At around the end of seven months I also started having ticklish little twinges in my cervical area every few days that were probably the stretching and thinning of my womb’s opening. Naturally, the contractions came more frequently and became stronger as time went on. In the evening of March 27th I was watching a movie with my family when I noticed that those nice, strong, pleasurable contractions were coming every ten minutes on the dot, so I assumed that the birth would be soon. During the night the contractions woke me with their intensity, which was something that I’d never experienced before. I knew that night that our baby would be born the next day, and assumed it would be that afternoon, as was my past pattern.

My husband and I woke up happy and excited but peaceful at around ten in the morning and spent some time alone together talking with a quiet excitement about the fact that our baby would soon be born. When I went to the bathroom I noticed some blood tinged mucous on the tissue, and danced with joy. “This is for real!” I thought happily – I had waited patiently the past twenty days since my estimated “due date”. I was ravenously hungry and wanted a good meal before the upcoming “workout”, so I drove to Burger King for my favorite morning treat: a breakfast sandwich and coffee. It was an unusually beautiful day that day - sunny and about sixty degrees - after having been cold, snowy, and rainy for months on end. I sang along with the cassette tape Angelica was born to the whole way. Burger King’s drive-thru was closed, so I went to McDonalds instead. As wonderful as I was feeling, I still didn’t want to have a contraction in the store and then deal with the employees calling 911 or something equally silly. Instead I had one contraction in my car in the drive-thru just before ordering, and another at home in our driveway.

I waved to the neighbors with a sense of secret delight as I carried my breakfast inside. Christiana and Angelica were still asleep and John was at his computer, so I ate breakfast alone and comfortable, smiling to myself in the sunshine coming through my kitchen window. Full and content, I went to work preparing my “nest.” I swept the kitchen floor and cleared the table. I updated my webpage and sent an email to some good friends, letting them know I was in labor. I called my mom, and gave her the exciting news too. All the while I experienced the most wonderful sense of harmony with my body. It seemed as though my contractions only came when I was ready, or else I was just ready for each contraction as it came. Either way, they came irregularly. Some were as close together as five minutes and others as far apart as half an hour, but there was no doubt in my mind that as soon as I relaxed completely, my baby would come gliding gently into the world.

When I started feeling pain in the lower part of my belly during contractions in certain positions, I went upstairs and set up our video camera. Then I laid a new shower curtain with a flannel sheet over it on my bedroom floor. I hadn’t made any advance plans about where I would labor and whether I would try to capture it on video or not, this is just what I felt like doing at the time. As I labored I found that what felt good to do through one contraction rarely felt right during the next, so I experimented with different positions with each one. Sometimes I rocked on my hands and knees. Other times I danced, and still other times I swiveled my hips while massaging my lower belly. I was surprised to find standing and walking to be comfortable all this time, as being upright had been too intense when I labored with Angelica.

When I knelt through contractions more of the red-tinged mucous would come out, but with one of the last contractions I rode through while standing, my water shot out onto the floor with a pop. This was another new sensation for me, and I shouted about it to John, who was in another room, with delight. In between contractions I talked to the camera about my feelings and enjoyed the enthusiastic attention from my girls, who were awake by now. Christiana actually hopped around, saying, “The baby’s coming! I’m so excited!!” John stayed in the adjacent room at his computer unless I wanted him during this time, and we occasionally called back and forth to one another as is usual for us.

During contractions I moaned and roared and hollered along with the intensity however I saw fit, which felt great. A couple of times I ordered the girls out of the room, and a few I demanded that John massage my back. I feel a little bad for being so brusque now, but it was good to be honest about those feelings at the time. Along with the sense of harmony I described above, I also had a clear and undeniable knowledge that I was emotionally resisting the birth. I literally knew for hours that all I had to do was allow the birth to flow through me - relinquish control - and my baby would be born immediately, but for some reason I just wasn’t mentally “ready” right away. I talked with John honestly about this and he was very encouraging. I said, “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to do this anymore.” “This” meaning giving birth. He reminded me that I help women get through the very same emotions all the time in my work on the Internet, and that I could definitely find it within myself now to submit to the birthing power too.

All at once I gathered up my courage and began pushing with each contraction. This felt indescribably wonderful! It also felt different from my other births. I didn’t really conceptualize it until a few days later when talking about it to a friend, but the baby was coming out in the same position she had been in for months – head down and facing my right side. Even though she was moving easily and painlessly, the sensation was strange. I felt as though she might exit through my rectum, so I rolled around a bit, grasping my buttocks while trying to find a comfortable way to push. The funny thing is, I remember now having had a dream while I was pregnant where I birthed the baby while in a sort of “crab crawl” position. The concept of giving birth while on my hands, feet, and rump seemed humorous to me at the time of the dream, but with this pressure on my rear it just happened to be the posture I was intuitively drawn into.

Sitting in this odd position, I felt inside to find a head full of hair just a couple knuckles deep. I was thrilled: our baby was about to be born! John asked how much longer it would be and I told him not long and mentioned feeling the head, so he stayed with me. All this took just a contraction or two and suddenly I knew the actual birth was imminent. I said to John something along the lines of, “If you want to call the girls in to watch, this is about to happen.” To which he replied, “What?” (He didn’t hear me.) I gave a final push right then and she slid gently out onto the sheet. Johnny says he had his hand on her as she came out, but all I remember of that moment was thinking how tiny she looked. Later we decided she was likely about 8 and a half pounds, which is larger than our first daughter was, but smaller than our second. That original perception was probably just due to the fact that I’d never seen my own baby being born before. As she lay there freshly born, I was seeing her a lot further away from me than I’d seen either of my other two babies for the first time.

She was beautiful, flawless, and purple, and she lay peaceful between my knees on her left side. I realize now that the odd pressure I had been feeling must have been from her shoulders. She never turned on the way down like many babies do, and came straight out, still facing my right side. My bottom was a bit sore and stayed that way for an hour or two, but I didn’t tear. It was absolutely awesome and deeply satisfying to hook my own hands under her tiny newborn arms and lift her to my own bare breast. Her skin felt deliciously warm and wet, and I savored every single second of that raw, genuine moment. At some point one of us called to the girls that their sister was “out”, and they came right away to smother her with kisses and gentle caresses. As I said, my rear felt a little sore, so we arranged some pillows along the wall for me to lay against, and all the action disturbed her into crying a bit. I tickled her lips, but she wasn’t ready to nurse yet, so we just talked to her and enjoyed her while John snapped some pictures.

Just that moment I noticed that the light on the video camera was off, so I asked John to check it. Sadly, the batteries (which I charged up the month before) had run out sometime while I was still in labor, so we missed taping another birth. I think John had been blocking the view inadvertently anyway, but it would have been nice to capture the sounds of birth and moments after anyway. Ah well…The time was 6:00 p.m. so we assume the birth occurred around 5:50. She started nursing within that first hour, which brought on some of the worst afterpains I’ve ever experienced. After about three of these, demanding more back massage, and two Tylenol, I remembered how good it felt to push with my contractions earlier, and tried it. Out slipped my placenta and immediately the afterpains were replaced by strong but painless contractions. We left our newest little one attached to what had been her lifeline until it was completely limp and white. I knew that I didn’t want to use one of those hard plastic cord clamps on my soft, tender, newborn baby, but John did want to tie the cord with something. So, just to be safe I’d boiled some new shoestrings along with my sewing scissors that morning, and when I finally needed to get up and pee, John tied and cut the cord. The soft string worked just fine, and was much, much nicer than a clamp. With a small squirt of breast milk now and then, the stump fell away on the fourth day after her birth, revealing the most beautiful bellybutton I’ve ever seen.

I knew my first two girls’ names while they were still in the womb, but John and I had never agreed on a girl’s name this time around. I wanted to name this child Sarah Anne, or Annaleigha Sarai if it turned out to be a girl, but John didn’t like these. John liked Annistasia, but that reminded me of the title of a Disney movie we’ve never seen, so we continued to toss names back and forth for over nine months. I really hadn’t wanted to have a baby without a name. When it came down to it, I felt very odd to be naming someone we’d already met, rather than meeting someone who already had a name. But we just couldn’t agree on a girl’s name yet when our little one arrived. The night she had been born, Sunday March 28th 1999, I dreamt of the name Leighanne; a rearranged version of one of the names I had wanted to use. When I woke up in the morning I looked at her and it fit. I told John and he agreed, but he just liked it as a middle name, so we still needed to come up with a first name for her. That morning, while going back and forth with a few more names that all sounded ridiculous, we remembered the name Cierra. It was the only name we’d ever both liked, it sounded beautiful with Leighanne, and it fit her, so it stuck. Our third little blessing is now named Cierra Leighanne Morgan.

I felt wonderful, healthy and energized after Cierra’s birth. John pampered me and encouraged me to take it easy, but I was stubborn and went right back to laundry and cleaning house anyway. My body knew better what I should be doing and a few days later I woke up feverish with chills and muscle aches. I’d felt this way for a little while both times my milk came in with my first girls, so I didn’t think much of it at first, but five days later I felt the same and had to admit that I was sick. I also came down with an unexplainable pain in my left side that hurt so bad it left me unable to walk around. On Friday my mom came to visit and help out for a while as planned, so I hunkered down and camped out on the couch with my little one skin to skin like I should have done in the first place. I spent some more days weepy, hurting, and tired, and even picked a big fight with John one night, but I also got the intense one-on-one time I needed with Cierra and by the end of the next week I’d recovered. I’ve made it a point since then not to do too much and just soak up every ray of joyous sunshine that emanates from this amazing being that I can. I haven’t been disappointed! So that’s it, the story of Cierra’s birth. It wasn’t a terrifying, degrading, painful experience like my first daughter’s birth. It wasn’t a dramatic, intense, life-changing experience like my second daughter’s birth. It was just beautiful and powerful in its simplicity. It was normal. It was birth the way it should be: an ordinary miracle.

]]>Giving Birth To An Angel A Sensual Birth told by Laurie MorganLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:52:35 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/giving-birth-to-an-angel-a-sensual-birth-told-by-laurie-morgan52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebff8de4b0d45ca29f89a5The night before my second daughter was to be born I started having
comfortable but regular contractions. They came five minutes apart for half
an hour, so I called my mom and my girlfriend Bridgette to let them know
that the big event might be soon around midnight. I was thirteen days past
the estimated “due” date, so I was really emotionally ready. The night before my second daughter was to be born I started having comfortable but regular contractions. They came five minutes apart for half an hour, so I called my mom and my girlfriend Bridgette to let them know that the big event might be soon around midnight. I was thirteen days past the estimated “due” date, so I was really emotionally ready. When labor stopped immediately after I hung up the phone, I decided to go to bed. I wasn’t having contractions when my husband John got up in the morning, so I let him go to work. Late in the morning, my 22-month-old daughter Christiana and I started the day as usual, getting breakfast and watching a little TV. Contractions started again, and although they weren’t painful, they were definitely strong, so I called John to wrap things up at work and get home as soon as possible. I looked forward to having his loving attention.

While waiting, Christiana and I showered and got dressed. I was very deliberate about showering and brushing my teeth and hair. Not only was this relaxing and invigorating, it was also a spiritually cleansing and satisfying personal ritual that really helped me to loosen up. This was in stark contrast to the disgust I had felt following my first daughter’s birth, not having had the chance to wash up before hand and then being bedridden for three days. I also donned a white embroidered lace nightgown that I had handmade for the occasion of my pregnancy and labor. I had purposefully kept it clean and ready the last two weeks preceding this day.

When Johnny got home around 12:30, we relaxed together on the couch. He breathed with me through contractions and was verbally encouraging. His loving presence was an important part of my opening up. By now we were both aware of the sensuality surrounding birth. Creating this child was an intimate act of love between the two of us, and birthing in a loving way simply and naturally completed that act. As a result of my healing, I was much more able to “open up” during this labor. I had finally become able to make my vagina wet and loose by fantasizing about making love to my husband, so while I labored, I graphically visualized having sex. John and I both welcomed the idea of actually having sex during labor (in fact John offered to perform oral sex on me right in the middle of it...what a man!), but I just happened to be focused elsewhere at the time. In the days preceding I had masturbated frequently. I found this to be an intensely pleasurable, loving, and appropriate preparation for our baby’s birth. Laboring in the environment of my own home was crucial to accepting these feelings.

John and I also prayed together and called family for more prayer and emotional support. We listened to inspiring Christian praise music and I rocked in my rocking chair. I sucked on a grape popsicle. I ate lunch, and generally made myself comfortable. I also began getting supplies ready, like plastic sheeting and linens. I even set up the video camera, which in the excitement we ended up forgetting to use. When contractions got really strong, I made myself a little nest of pillows to lean on at the end of our spare bed, and told John that it was time to call Bridgette to come. When she arrived about an hour later, I was in the living room, concentrating on opening up and relaxing my pelvic muscles. I had an overwhelming feeling that if I relaxed enough, the baby would come out too fast. That feeling was affirmed every time I stood up, when gravity would cause the downward pressure to increase unbearably.

While Bridgette set to preparing homemade chicken soup in the kitchen, I went to my bedroom to spend some time alone. It felt incredibly appropriate to crawl the whole way on my hands and knees, and so, as ridiculous as it may seem I did. Christiana entertained herself and visited off and on throughout this stage of labor, tenderly lavishing hugs and kisses on me. I delighted in cuddling and playing with my two year old daughter, despite dire warnings that labor would frighten her from people who didn’t understand that she is like a soul mate to me.

When transition started, I panicked and began to have a few painful contractions, so I had Bridgette rub my lower back while John occupied Christiana’s attention. After a few minutes, I became fearful that I wouldn’t be able to handle the intensity of the contractions if this labor continued for as many hours as my first had. What I didn’t realize was that the baby was about to be born, and that the painless contractions I had been experiencing earlier were those “hours of labor”. Bridgette expressed her confidence in me, helping me to remember that I could regain control of the pain once the “pushing phase” started. After she suggested a few times that it would take the edge off the contractions, I gratefully crawled into the warm bath she prepared. As I sat upright in the tub, Bridgette vigorously swished water over my belly and labor immediately became bearable again. I then re-focused on my goal--a gentle and painless birth.

A few contractions later, I told Bridgette out of the blue that I wanted a break in the intensity of labor, and miraculously, it came. My prayers were answered with a long, contraction-free moment in which I was able to regroup and rest. Soon my body spoke again, clearly telling me that it was now time to push the baby out. Bridgette wondered aloud how far along I was, so I checked inside and was able to feel the head. What a delight! A few seconds later, there was a gush as my water broke. While pushing with an irresistible urge, I instinctively turned onto my hands and knees in the tub. I remember very clearly the intense pleasure of feeling my baby’s body move downward inside me. The spreading apart of my muscles and bones and the joy of voluntarily allowing my body to do it’s work was both arousing and exhilarating. An instant later, Bridgette could see the baby’s head, so she called John and Christiana to come into the bathroom. I found it amazingly satisfying to pinch my clitoris to relieve the burning sensation while I savored the soft, wet, slightly furry head of the emerging new person pressing on my eager fingers.

John came and cupped the baby’s head in his hands, so I relaxed knowing she would not fall head first into the tub. With one more contraction and three pushes, Angelica Marie Morgan was born into her father’s hands! She was a bit purple, having birthed through the cord that had been around her neck, but after I turned over and rested her on my tummy, she quickly developed a healthy color. We all felt euphoric. After wrapping mom and baby in a towel, John suddenly remembered the video camera and began taping.

When we identified and announced that the baby was a girl, Christiana, who had been standing by quietly, now exclaimed, “Baby sister! Baby sister!” I was utterly triumphant! “Pop a cork,” I said, “I feel like having a party!”, as Christiana reached into the tub to gently touch her sister for the first time. Then Bridgette went to stir the chicken soup, leaving us to have family time alone. I had begun making plans to get the two of us out of the still warm tub when Angelica began to root around for her first meal, so I settled back in to nurse my four-minute-old daughter. When she was done, John and Bridgette helped us out of the tub and dried us off. Still connected to my daughter by her umbilical cord, I energetically walked over and settled us into our family bed. Once there, Angelica and Christiana nursed together.

A few minutes later, I felt another irresistible urge to push, and out came Angelica’s placenta into the disposable underpad I had been sitting on. Bridgette wrapped it and gently set it alongside us. Later, I cut the cord when the babies were contented, having finished nursing. John started making phone calls soon after, while I snuggled with my two little girls. By that time the delicious smell of chicken soup had spread throughout the house, so we all happily devoured our dinners while recalling and celebrating the afternoon’s fantastic events. Bridgette’s recipe for chicken soup still brings back great memories every time I make it.

Christiana and I ended the birthing day by sharing an herbal bath while Angelica acquainted herself with her father. I remember laughing with Bridgette over the irony that she had prepared the herbs to aid in healing my perineum so carefully, and I hadn’t even torn. I even used toilet paper without pain thirty minutes after giving birth. We chose not to disturb Angelica until she was well settled, so it was not until that night that we found out she weighed 8 lbs. 14 oz. with a head circumference of 14 inches. A few days later we measured her at 23 inches in length. Besides enjoying my labor and birth, I was positively high long afterwards. I was delighted to find that I was remarkably energetic the entire night. I even filmed my husband interacting with his new daughter just hours later from the living room couch.

Commentary:The following is the commentary that I have always included with my birth story: “You may note that there are a few things missing from this birth story. No one told me when I was in labor. No one checked or recorded my dilation, effacement or station. No one told me when or where to sit up, lie down, eat, drink, or pee. No one screwed wires into my baby’s scalp. No one ruptured her membranes. Angelica was not touched by any one outside of her family as she entered the world. No one shoved a bulb syringe into her tiny newborn nose. She began to breathe in her own time, while still receiving oxygen from her placenta. She was not taken from me to be swaddled and isolated in a plastic warmer with a pacifier in her mouth. She was warmed under a towel by her skin touching mine, and comforted by a warm breast and her mother’s milk. Angelica was not exposed to the germ filled atmosphere of a hospital. In fact, the first other place she rested outside of my arms was on her Father’s chest, rather than an isolete or car seat.

The absence of intervention in my daughter’s birth was fully intentional. I believe in birth, and I trust life. Healthy babies come out when they are ready. I know that babies are meant to be born without anyone putting their hands inside their mothers. Cervixes dilate (or not) even when no one knows how dilated they are. Monitoring heart-rates, obsessing over dates, poking with needles, etc. do not make babies healthy or happy. Good genes, adequate maternal nutrition, high quality prenatal care, and education do that. In truth, most interventions cause stress, inhibit nature, and dangerously increase the need for more interventions. Even the relatively interference-free care given by most midwives often crosses nature’s boundaries. I was quite blessed to have the help of a friend who is truly trusting and aware of these things despite having been trained in midwifery.

It is shameful when intervention meant for life-saving is used when it is completely unnecessary. The subtle, unkind interference that goes unnoticed because it is accepted as necessary is just as inexcusable. The violent suctioning of newborns serves as one good example. It is well documented that mucus is expelled from the lungs during birth, and that the rest will drain gently when the newborn is placed on its mother’s tummy. Even when suctioning is necessary, there is still no excuse for treating the newborn roughly.

The impact birth has on the rest of our children’s life requires that we as parents take full responsibility for our caregivers’ actions. Many people go about choosing their caregiver with the very intention of relinquishing their parental responsibility of ensuring their child a safe birth. Instead, parents should take time to gain the education needed to make their own decisions, and insist that birth attendants honor their wishes. Even if that necessitates questioning caregiver’s actions, refusing to allow certain procedures, or actually firing attendants.

One might also think, as a lot of people have, that I was lucky to have only thirty minutes of painful labor. But I know that it wasn’t luck. I planned to birth this way from the start. Before I was even pregnant, I prepared myself by reading about, praying for, and believing in the kind of birth I wanted. I learned about the fear/pain cycle, and through prayer, allowed myself to be freed of anxiety about labor pain. Without involuntary muscular opposition brought on by fear, my body was able to work as it should--quickly and painlessly. I also attribute the speed and ease of my labor to the lack of outside influences. I didn’t have internal exams because I believe that this unnatural act causes the pelvic muscles to reflexively tense up, lengthening labor and increasing discomfort. I also know that the signs of labor’s stages (dilation for instance) can change radically in a short amount of time. Therefore I believe that when an “expert” assesses where a woman is in labor, and that assessment conflicts with what her body tells her, the news becomes a self fulfilling prophecy, and the woman becomes disheartened and exhausted unnecessarily. This helps explain why women in hospitals often give up on having a “natural” birth. They are having longer, harder labors because of their environment. Anyone who could refuse drugs in that situation deserves a medal!

Women’s bodies were made to be able to birth without assistance of any kind. I shudder when I hear glowing accounts of birth that include statements like, “the doctor had to...”, or, “my midwife needed to...”, because I know that a lot more of those labors were labeled and treated as high risk than truly were. So many women are convinced that their baby’s birth would have been a tragedy without intervention that, were women being told the truth, it’s statistically impossible for the human race to have survived before the invention of these procedures. The odds that the majority of American women really aren’t physically able to birth the way I did are slim. Of the many reasons why so few actually do, acceptance of status quo, lack of education, and lack of desire are all within our power to change. Therefore it is our duty to do so.

I have been incredibly empowered and spiritually moved by my birth experience. Too many families are missing the same opportunity because of the over-acceptance and over-application of intervention in labor and delivery. I hope that the story of my daughter’s birth is encouraging to other families, and influences them to seek out the information necessary for them to have the births they want.

]]>Maverek's Birth - A Shooting Star by Jenni JessenLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:50:28 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/mavereks-birth-a-shooting-star-by-jenni-jessen52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfeaae4b0d830820f539eIt became apparent by the time that I was only 22 weeks pregnant that
Maverek was anxious to get here. It was at that time I had some problems
with pre-term labor and began to dilate. We made it until I was 38 weeks
and 2 days before he was determined to make his entrance, and quite a
dramatic one at that. The day he was born progressed like any other until
about 5:00 p.m., at which time, I began feeling very sick with flu like
symptoms. It became apparent by the time that I was only 22 weeks pregnant that Maverek was anxious to get here. It was at that time I had some problems with pre-term labor and began to dilate. We made it until I was 38 weeks and 2 days before he was determined to make his entrance, and quite a dramatic one at that. The day he was born progressed like any other until about 5:00 p.m., at which time, I began feeling very sick with flu like symptoms. I was shaky, clammy, cold, sweaty, nauseous, and just pretty much all over yucky. Miserable, I assumed it was something I ate. I asked Kelly to take care of Scarlet while I camped out in the restroom.

At 5:30 p.m. I was having some moderate contractions, but they were really no worse than what I had been having the last several weeks. I did suspect I was in early labor, but thought I was still several hours from delivery so Kelly packed up the kids and went to look at a dirt bike. I started a bath and before the water finished running I had the first really strong contraction. I got into the water and had another strong contraction along with a moment of panic, thinking I was in for a lot of work! On the third strong contraction the pressure was so intense that I couldn't resist the urge to bear down. I reached down and I could feel his head slowly emerging. With one more contraction and only three pushes, he slid gently into my hands.

The intensity and majesty of those few moments have left an indelible impression on me. There were no bright lights, no loud noises, no interfering hands. It was only my strength, my breath, and my faith in God's miraculous design that brought him forth. As I brought him to the surface of the water for he and I to meet for the very first time, there was only peace. After a moment or two, he let out a quiet gurgle and began trying to nurse.

It occurred to me at that time, to call Kelly however, technology momentarily failed us and the cell phone wouldn't receive the signal. Unfortunately my memory also failed and I couldn't remember his pager number. So I climbed out of the bath, wrapping a towel around beautiful Maverek and walked to Kelly's office to get his number. I sent him a text message that read, "It wasn't something I ate, it was your son. Come home quickly!" He called back immediately asking what I meant exactly. To which I said, "He's here and he's perfect, come home." My husband received the message 20 minutes after leaving the house. Kelly burst into the bedroom about ten minutes later to find us quietly nursing and completely content. His teary-eyed first quote, "You're amazing."

This birth was one of the most exquisite and profound experiences of my life. I began imagining one very similar when I was only weeks pregnant. The idea of giving birth without any assistance at all seemed so ideal and empowering. Admittedly, at first, the idea made me a little nervous. All of the "what ifs" that I am trained to deal with as a midwife were prominent concerns. This makes me wonder if it was even really my idea to begin with, or if Maverek whispered it to me in my dreams. However, as the pregnancy progressed so did my faith in my body, my ability to give birth, and my conviction that whether we are feminist or not, our bodies are designed to give birth. Man or medical science cannot improve on creation as God intended it. He makes no mistakes, he is a loving and extravagant God.

In the final weeks of my pregnancy I found peace and solace in several scriptures and I knew that whatever God intended for this baby and I was perfect. My two favorite verses were Psalms 139:13-14, "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." And Philippians 4:13 which promises, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." My faith was reaffirmed when in the night I got up to have a snack. I sat in the family room thanking God for all he had given me and I saw a shooting star streak across the sky. Life in and of itself is a miracle.

Maverek is a beautiful, happy, quiet baby. Neither he nor I suffered any complications during the birth or in the hours and days afterward. We are enjoying these days and hours of getting to know one another and celebrating the addition of him to our family.

]]>A Generous Orgasm by Gabriela Altobello Buenos Aires, ArgentinaLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:49:35 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/a-generous-orgasm-by-gabriela-altobello-buenos-aires-argentina52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfe72e4b077a6f438a96fI have four children. Pampa is nine, Bahia is six, Selva is three and
weaned at around two and a half years old. Nazareno breastfed exclusively
for eight months, now at one year has learned to walk and eats a little
fruit and bread and nurses all the time.I have four children. Pampa is nine, Bahia is six, Selva is three and weaned at around two and a half years old. Nazareno breastfed exclusively for eight months, now at one year has learned to walk and eats a little fruit and bread and nurses all the time.

He was born at home, without midwives, because they are institutionalized, and don't like such ideas. There was my husband, myself and God. It was wonderful, magic and sensual. When I pushed my baby out it was a generous orgasm. Nazareno shone.

We put our placenta in the earth of our garden, and in this place we planted a lemon tree. The aboriginals from Bolivia and Peru, say plant a son's placenta into the earth of the plantation, and he will love the work there. If it is a daughter, plant her placenta near the house and she will love working in her home.

I only believe in the power of Mother Earth, Pachamoma. I don't depend on doctors, Nestle bottles, or the goodness of the establishment. Many women are blinded by 'false liberation' and the crazy run for money, thinking that motherhood is slavery. Wrong. The woman who has homebirth and breastfeeds a long time, is using the power that Nature gave her. She is free and powerful.

We are far away in the Third World, and I am sorry my English is primitive.

]]>Journey to Divine Childbirth - The Birth Of Luca by Samantha WoodsLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:48:45 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/journey-to-divine-childbirth-the-birth-of-luca-by-samantha-woods52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfe35e4b034d1de3314c7How can I even begin to describe my home birth experience? Of course it was
the comfort of husband and home, freedom from harmful medical intervention,
joyful, painless labour and the sheer ecstasy of birthing my child into my
own hands. How can I even begin to describe my home birth experience? Of course it was the comfort of husband and home, freedom from harmful medical intervention, joyful, painless labour and the sheer ecstasy of birthing my child into my own hands. But it was so much more than that. It was the most profound spiritual connection I have ever made. It was reaching into the deepest part of my being and finding my soul power, it was choosing faith over fear, it was truly listening to an inner voice that said, "Follow the light!" I followed and I found a miracle. I found my infinite, loving source and I found my precious Luca. She was the light that I followed. I believe that Luca chose this wonderful birth experience and guided me in my decision. Our babies are Divine and infinitely intelligent. I pray that we can help them maintain their Divine connection, and I thank Luca for helping me find mine.

The month leading up to Luca's birth was like riding some crazy emotional rollercoaster. I struggled daily with anxiety, tension, impatience, excitement, boredom and every other conceivable emotion. My small frame was straining with the weight of my baby and to top it all off was my decision, at 36 weeks, to have an unassisted home birth. So much work to do in such a short time, it was like an intensive personal development course. Admittedly, the journey was long and hard but the destination was worth every tedious moment.

My body prepared itself gently and gradually for the birth. I had frequent Braxton Hicks for the last six or eight weeks (of course I was convinced I'd go early!). I was two days overdue when I lost my mucous plug and I woke the following morning with my water leaking. No major gushes or labour symptoms, just a constant leak. I retired at 9pm that evening feeling rather blase about the birth. Maybe I'd surrendered a little. I started getting some contractions as I dozed off to sleep. They were regular and pleasurable and I drifted in and out of dreams for a few hours. My husband joined me in bed at midnight. I didn't tell him about the contractions because I was enjoying the solitude and excitement.

At 1am I got out of bed to set up for the birth. I was still enjoying the contractions and didn't feel any sense of urgency. At 2.15am I phoned my sister to inform her that the baby MIGHT be on its way. I told her not to rush as I "wasn't really in labour yet." I ran a bath and relaxed in the warm water and within a couple of minutes WHAMMO!, four whoppers that had me hanging out of the tub and panting like crazy. I felt afraid at that moment because I was alone and the bath tub was small and uncomfortable. I clambered out and hobbled down the stairs, calling out to Clinton on the way down. He sleeps like a log and didn't hear a thing so, husband or no husband, I was going downstairs to have this baby! Another very intense contraction overcame me. I lunged onto my knees and leaned over the sofa. There was no plastic down, no sheets and no pause between contractions, it was just me and my lovely white bath towel. My mind and body had separated. My body was overcome by the force of nature and my mind was thinking, "What about the carpet?"!

I was experiencing peak intensity, a wild and awesome moment, when my sister arrived. It was 2.35am and she padded around gingerly while I moaned into the seat of the lounge. I told her to wake Clinton and felt a moment of fear as another contraction overcame me. I wondered how long this intensity would last. I was afraid that this was just the beginning of my labour. Clinton and Kelly came downstairs and washed their hands. I sensed that they were unprepared for the situation but their fearless support was immediate. Clinton sat by me and stroked my hair and rubbed my shoulders. By this time, though, I was quite unresponsive. I was desperately thirsty and managed to ask for water but there was no way I was getting that drink. I instinctively put my hands between my legs, knowing that the baby was on its way. "Here it is Clinton. Here comes the baby." My sister fumbled around with the video camera, but couldn't turn it on. Clinton had one hand between my legs and the other on the camera. "Quick Clinton, here it comes! Catch the baby!"

At that moment I felt the most wonderful, delicious sensation. The baby crowned and I felt the warm, slippery head slide effortlessly into my vagina. My sister gave up on the video and grabbed the camera. I exerted no effort as the head emerged gently. My body was literally birthing the baby. I felt the most incredible sense of relief and elation. I couldn't believe how beautiful it felt. With the head out there was a pause and I became aware of my mind and body merging. For the first time I had to think what to do next. Another contraction came and I pushed gently to birth the shoulders, and then a beautiful sense of closure as the body slipped out with a gush of warm water. It was 2.50am. We were awestruck. We fumbled with our slippery little bundle for quite some time before we even realised that we had a baby girl. Another beautiful daughter!

The rest of the morning was beautiful and exciting and hazy. I tied the cord with some cotton string and birthed the placenta within twenty minutes, or so. Luca nursed peacefully for a long time. We called our family and relived the birth over and over. Eventually we got some sleep at lunch time that day... and so began life as a family of four. Our other daughter, Journey, had slept through the entire event. She loved all the visitors and fuss but her new baby sister was no big deal. They're old souls, these children of ours, so we figured that they've probably known each other for ages!

]]>Jaya's Birth Story by KathyLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:47:57 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/jayas-birth-story-by-kathy52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfe0ce4b04156c8340ec1My pregnancy was wonderful. I felt healthier than any other time in my
life. My baby was due on September 10th, and this is the day I started
having contractions. They were like feathers compared to the real thing,
and made me giggle. I felt like I was being tickled from the inside. They
got stronger and stronger, and on the morning of the 14th, I knew this
would be the day.My pregnancy was wonderful. I felt healthier than any other time in my life. My baby was due on September 10th, and this is the day I started having contractions. They were like feathers compared to the real thing, and made me giggle. I felt like I was being tickled from the inside. They got stronger and stronger, and on the morning of the 14th, I knew this would be the day.

I had invited my best friend Kathy, and my mother. My neighbors were also there to take pictures. At about noon, the rushes had gotten real strong, and I couldn't stand the feeling of my clothes. I got naked, and while my mom and Kathy filled the pool, my partner Brandon and I rode through the next few rushes in our bed. He held me and massaged me, and it felt like great ocean waves were holding up our bed. Rushes of energy that felt so good.

I was ready to get into the pool before it was ready for me, and I walked into the living room and got in while Kathy's son, Bhajan (now almost 2) held the hose filling the pool. He thought it was play time! Brandon and I got into the pool, and everything else faded away.

Through the whole labor, I didn't notice any of the camera flashes, or the drama about the electric stove not working (our only source for heating the water, as our water heater had already run out). It was like Brandon and I were alone in a beautiful hot spring, and I caught flashes of Kathy and my mother every now and then. The rushes came stronger and stronger, and I felt God's hand working my body. I felt so blessed to be part of the creation miracle!

Brandon held me up from behind, and I felt our baby's head coming more and more with each rush. I was so amazed at how good I felt. I wanted it to last longer, and kept saying 'this is beautiful- this is amazing!' Brandon and I melted into one, and I stared into Kathy's eyes. So nice to have a sister there to catch my baby, and holding my mom's hand gave me so much strength.

Bhajan had one leg bent up ready to jump in the pool, and his beaming eyes guided me through intense rushes. We aumed, and it really brought our group into one being. Singing mantras to Tara - the Bhudda of compasion.

My baby's head was coming now, and I could feel the bulge with each rush. Then, a head came half way out, and didn't go back in like it had before. The peace I felt between rushes was like none I had ever felt before. I melted into Brandon's chest for what seemed like hours, not hearing anything but his heartbeat, until the next rush came. And a whole head now, between my legs and under water. I reached out to touch my baby, and the feeling I felt then was indescribable. So ancient and knowing, and trust and faith. The head felt so soft, and turned, and we waited, and waited. The longest pause yet between the rushes.

Then, my baby shot out - right into Kathy's arms. It was in a fully in tact sack, which Kathy pulled away. She passed my baby to me, and I unwrapped the cord. staring into my baby's eyes we made such a deep spirit connection, making psychic tyes, and I felt the ancientness of her soul. We have known each other many times before. It seemed like an eternity that we stared into each other's eyes, deeply connecting.

I knew she was a girl, and didn't bother to check until everyone asked. And I checked, and confirmed what I knew - a beautiful healthy girl. She didn't want to nurse right away, just licked me. She let out a big cry, cleared her lungs, and we sucked fluid from her nose and mouth so she could breathe more easily. Brandon and I and our new shiney baby sat in the pool for about a half hour more until I delivered the placenta, and we moved to the bedroom. We cut the cord about 45 minutes after Jaya was born. She was so alert right from the start. Huge blue eyes! and so healthy.

It was truly an amazing experience. And to share it with my closest sister and my mother felt like ancient tribal tradition. It made the close bond I have had with my mother even stronger, and I am so honored to have such am amazing and strong sister to catch my baby. Jaya is an amazing soul, so wise and gentle.

I felt no pain or fear through the whole trip, and I hope other women can read these birth stories and find courage to have unassisted births. It felt so good!

]]>The Birth of Albion by Beatrice JasperLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:46:23 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/the-birth-of-albion-by-beatrice-jasper52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfdc9e4b0b205affdae99After Dora's mild, gradual warm up and fast culmination of birth with no
show, etc., I am experiencing something different to show me that I don't
know everything. I went to bed at about 8:30 last night. I kept
semi-dreaming through some really strong, crampy expansions. Finally got up
to pee at about 12:30 am, and noticed a tinge of pink. I called Matt up and
he set up cameras. I put laundry away (so the couch would be clear), very
excited.After Dora's mild, gradual warm up and fast culmination of birth with no show, etc., I am experiencing something different to show me that I don't know everything. I went to bed at about 8:30 last night. I kept semi-dreaming through some really strong, crampy expansions. Finally got up to pee at about 12:30 am, and noticed a tinge of pink. I called Matt up and he set up cameras. I put laundry away (so the couch would be clear), very excited.

Pink went to dark heavy blood in no time. Frequent strong expansions. I had so much fun welcoming them (enjoying them while sitting on the couch with my feet pressed together sole to sole, back nice and straight), happy that the baby was coming. It was incredible-- as my belly tightened and pulled up, my mouth was stretched up into the biggest grin. I even got a few candles lit this time; something I had wanted every other birth. I felt very certain that baby was actually coming at 2:36 am (I dreamt the time). Then Dora woke up at 1:30-2:00ish. She was up and chattery, wanting mama and daddy in bed. Still wouldn't go to sleep. Two hours later, William was up, too.

All this time, my belly action had slowed way down. I was still getting them now and then, and very achy through my back. Finally, I felt frustrated enough by about 4 am-- between annoying children and a husband who was so tired that he was difficult to deal with (yay, my earlier euphoria banished by bickering)-- that I simply left the room and stayed on the couch for the rest of the night. At least I sort of slept for a few hours, but was still annoyed that what felt so much like a fast progression towards birth was halted. I had a strong urge to get in the car and drive away for some peace. I still do. I woke to a grey day, which invariably gives me a neuralgia behind my left ear, and feeling in a less than positive frame of mind, as is everyone else. I don't particularly feel that I should have to be the All-Nurturing One right now.

Shortly after I wrote that, I began to feel in a better frame of mind. After spending time alone upstairs, I decided to come down and get on with my day. Concentrating with joy on my body’s actions hadn’t made the baby appear. Sleeping hadn’t made the baby appear, so why not try acting as if it were any other day and ignore my body for awhile?

Matt and I were getting along, the kids were not as freaky. Matt jokingly told me, “I expect an heir by 7 o’clock.” I told him that it wasn’t all that likely, since my expansions were few and far between. They were not usually more frequent than every half an hour to an hour, and not very strong. There were one or two that I rocked my hips and breathed for, and Matt said, “Now that looks familiar!”. There just didn’t seem to be a feeling of imminence in the air.

I was a bit discouraged; because of the weather, because of my expectations, because of the sorrow over my mama’s death a couple of weeks before (February 8, 2002), because I was very tired, and to top it all off, Matt and I were both getting the kids' cold. It didn’t feel like a good day. However, I did let go of my expectations. I knew that baby would come when it was the Right Time, and I needed to let go and let it happen, not try to control it.

After a while, I went upstairs to rest and spent some time thinking about what was happening. I realized that my being was in conflict, at least in part because once I had the baby, I would have to face not being able to tell my mama about it. This made me cry for a bit and helped me to let go of that to some extent (not totally) up to and after his birth. I still felt wrong that mama would not be the first person we called, as we had with all of the others.

I put Peter Gabriel’s “Passion” CD on, and did some walking, bellydancing, and lying down through expansions while I listened to it (on endless repeat). It is wonderful birth music, and this is the third time I have listened to it while bringing a little one into the world.

A little after 4 pm, I thought about whether Max should go to karate class that day (between 4:30 and 5:30). It seemed silly not to have him go, because birth did not seem to be close. At that point, I don’t think that my expansions were any closer together than they had been all day. On the other hand, it seemed equally silly to not have Matt and Max here, so they decided to skip class. Matt and Dora came up to visit a time or two, and it felt good to have them with me, as being alone upstairs felt alien. At some point, I asked Matt to bring the boys up, or they came up on their own (not really sure). I think they might have come upstairs to eat dinner. We have a huge, round clock in the bedroom (for helping the kids learn to tell time), and I did glance at it now and then as I walked past, but never to time how far apart the expansions were. At 5:30, I thought to myself, “Darn, I guess I won’t be able to give Matt that heir by 7".

Continued writing Friday, March 1, 2002, about 4:00 pm:

During this period, the expansions were getting very intense and taking all of my concentration. Though I haven’t a real idea how close together they were, it seemed that they were every few minutes. There was a lot of crampiness localized in my lower belly, and my lower back and hips were very achy. Sitting on the couch and relaxing through them was getting difficult, as I felt the need to be up and moving. During one on the couch, my back arched and my bottom came up; I felt as if I were being lifted by some outside source.

It occurred to me that I might be moving to get away from them, so I started to stand still through them while leaning against something, often with my head down on my arms. Though this sort of made them feel more intense, I also felt it was the right thing to do. Being still made my body more able to focus on its task, therefore completing it more effectively. It felt good to be in the room with the kids while I leaned against the sink through expansions. I liked leaning on the sink best because it was cool and also gave me some breathing room. When I leaned on the bureau, my face felt a bit suffocated.

About the intensity: I hesitate to use the word “pain” in connection with birth, as I feel that it is a matter of how one accepts the sensations. What I was feeling could easily have been felt as “pain” by someone else. But because I knew that it was part of my body’s actions to get the baby born, and was therefore purposeful, it all seemed intense rather than painful. It took a bit of time to integrate this, as Dora’s birth was effortless. This was far from that, so it took me by surprise. I did do a bit of thinking now and then about how different this was, but tried not to focus on it. I knew that it was its own experience, unlike any other; comparing it to another would detract from what I was doing in that moment.

At any rate, birth still did not feel very close. I think that because I had started up the night before and stopped, I was no longer focusing on when the birth would be, but accepting each wave as it came. Having the rest of the family upstairs made it easier to let go of the when too, because I no longer had to consider getting them up in time to witness the birth. This let me go into No Time (“Birth Time”, “Nowhere Land”), and simply wander about. There came a time that I realized I was merely getting through each expansion, with no joy in my heart and a grim set to my face. So I began smiling to greet them, and this helped make me feel excited and happy again--after all, our baby was coming to us!

During one of my glances at the clock, I noted that it was 6:15 and I thought that maybe, just maybe (told myself it was probably wishful thinking) the baby would be born by 7. A little time after that, I began wanting to kneel on our wonderful red Flokati rug and lean against our futon couch, which has a beautiful red bedspread on it. A couple of times, Matt asked if he should bring the camcorder out to that room but I was a bit surprised and said no. I was still planning on going into the bedroom and my birth nest (a pad and lots of blankets and pillows) on the floor when birth was actually close. He apparently knew better than I! Though the rug was a nice place to kneel, it was so filled with red that I was a little superstitious about it. I didn’t want to encourage my body to bleed so that it could fit in with the décor.

While kneeling there, I began to feel a different force moving through me. I was feeling it on a physical level, but also seeing a vision in my head of a blueprint (really, a blueprint-type diagram) of the baby being pressed downward. What I was “seeing” was a cross-section of my body, and a line drawing of the baby’s head moving down into my birth canal. A bit strange; though it was an odd way to see it, it felt like very spiritual knowing. This felt even more intense and I had to deliberately relax my back, letting the energy flow down and out to get through each expansion without fighting it. Knowing, from the blueprint vision, that the baby was descending gave me an added incentive to let it flow through me more easily.

A little after this, I decided to try out my birth nest since I hadn’t spent any time there at all. I remember thinking to myself that it felt way too soon to be in there, but that I could try it out for a little while and then go somewhere else. Once again, I noted the time--it was 6:35. I kneeled next to the nest and leaned against the bed.

The expansions were very strong, and I felt a strong need to clutch at the comforter, though I knew that having that much tension in my hands might not be a good idea. I felt as if I might be blown away by my body into another dimension if I didn’t. I also (on a more rational level) remembered that I had a lot of tension in my hands during Dora’s birth (when I was holding on to the changing table), and this didn’t adversely affect the birth. But, I didn’t fight my body during Dora’s birth. This time, I undoubtedly did (much as I hate to admit it) to some extent. Matt says that there was no outward sign of this, but I did have a number of thoughts along the lines of: “This isn’t what Dora’s birth was like. This isn’t what I expected.” Not once did it cross my mind that there was something wrong with what was happening. I knew fully that all was well, but it was disconcerting.

I had been through so much in the previous month-- my mother being in the hospital, having to fly down to Florida to say good-bye to her, then having her die, my subsequent grief and deliberate pushing aside thinking about it, topped off by a night of little sleep and getting a virus--it all put me in a much different place than I had been in when Dora was born. My being felt much lighter when she was born, and there was nothing else to do beforehand but look forward to her birth with joyful anticipation. This time, I barely had time to think about being pregnant, much less prepare myself emotionally for the birth.

So, back to the birth.

During some of the expansions, I felt my breath go a bit shuddery, as it does when my body begins to push. My body felt as if it were being taken over and driven by an outside force. Matt and the kids came in the bedroom, and the kids got quite boisterous, so I asked them to leave. Just after they left, I suddenly knew, and said, “Come now.” It had the desired effect of having Matt gather the children in the doorway to watch the birth (just in time!).

While leaning against the bed, I began feeling immense pressure, and then two distinct pops deep inside (the amnion and chorion popping one at a time as his head pressed against/through them). I felt my whole body shuddering with the power of my baby’s descent. I wanted to feel my yoni to see if the baby was crowning, but was scared to because I thought that if I didn’t feel a head, I would not know what to do (not rational, as obviously, I wouldn’t do anything but wait). Also, the sensations were so overwhelming that I didn’t even feel capable of putting my hands near there, thinking that it would intensify what I was feeling. It seemed better to disengage a bit and let my body do what it needed to without interference.

I began feeling a need to push with the surges. They no longer felt like expansions, but one continuous downward force of pure, soul-splitting, Earth-shaking Power. I held back pushing a bit, as the pressure intensified when I pushed, but it then became impossible not to. As I was still right next to the bed, I turned and kneeled on the birth nest. My body was forced into hands and knees, and I began pushing more, even though it frightened me a bit to feel this Immensity. I had a strong need to hold something for leverage, but I didn’t have anything, so I grabbed the sheets (highly unsatisfying when one wants leverage!). I could feel his head pass through my cervix (which burned in an otherworldly, outside of me way), one millimeter at a time, and also felt his shoulders pass through. My body and soul felt as if they were being turned inside out, pulled downwards, pulled apart, shaken and taken to another place. How overwhelming, how wonderful, how frightening, how perfect!

I had begun vocalizing and heard (through the roar in my head and body) Dora laughing at me. She was also saying, “You’re funny, Mom!” This lightened my spiritual load a bit, and made it easier to get out of the way of my body. Since it was clearly inevitable that the baby would emerge, and tensing up against it wasn’t going to help, I did my best to relax into it. The laughter also made me feel able to be fully upright on my knees. Each of her laughs brought me further upright, and I was smiling through my noises and grimaces. What a joyful darling to help her mama!

Once I was all of the way upright, his head came down further, though I couldn’t feel it at first when I touched my yoni (thinking, “Surely I must be crowning now!”). He came down a bit more and I could feel a little of that wonderful, wrinkly scalp. Slowly, slowly, it began emerging. It felt such a tight squeeze (and what a surprise that was!) that I began massaging my yoni all around, not really stretching it, but trying to gently get it out of the way. The day before, I had read one of Jeannine Baker’s birth stories-- in “Prenatal Yoga & Natural Birth”-- in which she pulled her vulva aside so forcefully that she injured herself.

I remembered this while birthing, and decided not to do the same, though I sure wanted to! I was saying to baby, “Come on now, baby”, “It’s OK”, “Come on out”, and, “Big head!” He flexed his head a little, and I said with joy, “Baby’s helping!” At one point, everything stopped, and I was stuck there in an endless moment with this enormous head stretching me. I tried to look down to see, but couldn’t see over my belly. More pressing down by my body, then that beautiful release as his head emerged fully. Oh, what a lovely feeling--his warm wet head in my hands! I exclaimed, “There’s the coming the baby!” (My poor sentence structure can be forgiven here, I believe.)

Slowly the rest of him birthed, with a warm flood of birth waters, right into my hands and up to my chest. As I was sitting down, I felt something soft next to his bottom, and thought, “Oh, that’s a penis.” Matt brought all of the kids over next to me, and I looked down at the baby, began laughing and said, “It’s not Ursula!” just as Matt was saying, “I know!” Through most of my pregnancy, I had felt strongly, nay, known completely, that this was a girl. For months we had been calling her Ursula Grace. Despite this, all I felt was complete and total satisfaction. I was utterly thrilled to have my little boy in my arms. (That morning, I had the quiet realization, “This is a boy,” so it wasn’t as much of a surprise as it might have been.) He began crying immediately, and was completely pink right away. I actually thought to look at the clock and noted that it was 6:53 pm. I had produced Matt’s heir by 7 after all!

A couple of minutes later, I felt warm fluid (that I presumed to be blood) flow out. I said, “I have to have the placenta now," and got back onto my knees to give a little push. The placenta came right out in a splash of blood, and I sat back down. Very simple. I ended up sitting on my foot, and it took me a moment to decide how to get my foot out without getting tangled in the cord. I lifted the cord up and pulled my foot out, explaining to Dora (who had been behind me saying, “Look, mom, blood!”) that this was what the baby had been inside of in my belly, and that it was all right to have some blood when giving birth.

A little later, she said, “You gave birth, Mom, to a baby and a placenta.” (Interesting note about his placenta; it was slightly bigger than the others I’d had and was not round, but almost kidney shaped. Of course it was completely intact and very healthy. I have noticed that baby’s hair whorl on his crown is slightly off center, and have heard from others that had odd shaped placentas that their children also had off center hair whorls.)

At this point, there was a lot of everyone talking about the baby, blankets being given to me, baby crying some still, and me offering the breast a few times. After four kids, a crying baby automatically means, “Offer breast!" William also kept saying, “I think he wants to nurse, Mom.” He finally quieting down and latched on. He did well, but didn’t nurse for too long. Matt mentioned that the baby looked bigger than the others, and I said, “His head sure felt like it.”

That night was pretty uneventful--a few meconium diapers to change, beautiful baby to smell, cuddle, stare at, and ooh over. He was very content, not crying, and spent time quietly looking around. He was not very interested in nursing, preferring to put his fingers in his mouth to suck on instead. However, by a day or so later, he had discovered the joys of nursing and is now extremely good at getting on the boob. He can even do it in the dark on his own.

We had planned a Lotus Birth, but after about eight hours began to think about cutting the cord. Managing baby attached by his cold, clammy cord to a package that kept seeping blood, no matter how well wrapped it was, began feeling tedious. When I have a new baby, I sleep best with him on my chest between my breasts, and I couldn’t do this with the placenta still attached. Because of this, I wasn’t able to really sleep.

Also, with three other little people in the bed and running about, I couldn’t leave baby lying on the bed while I did things like go to the bathroom or get myself drinks. I had to pick him and his placenta up (a bit of a juggling act) each time (not to mention that I simply hate not holding my baby every moment anyway). Perhaps if I had a room apart, and Matt had not been so busy with sick children (William turned out to have pneumonia), he would have been able to focus more on me, and I could have lain about until the cord detached on its own.

In retrospect, however, I think that my main reason for not feeling totally comfortable keeping the placenta attached and waiting for the “Little Mother” (as many call the placenta) to release herself had a lot to do with my mother’s death. Every time I felt the wrapped placenta, I had to think about death. It felt cold and still, and hit a nerve deep within me. Since I was doing my utmost to not think about my Mama having died, this constant reminder was very uncomfortable. I wanted to wholeheartedly concentrate on this new, warm little Life in my arms, and pretend that Death did not exist. Since the placenta was obviously dying, that was impossible.

All of this combined to make it feel fine to cut the cord, which we did ten hours after birth. When we first thought about it, eight hours after birth, I was shocked to find that he still had a faint pulse at the very base of his cord. By the time we actually cut the cord, there was no pulse at all. Matt boiled my Fiskar sewing scissors, then doused them in Betadine. I cut the cord at 4:45 am on Tuesday, without tying it off. It did ooze some, so I tied it with braided embroidery floss (very stylish!). The stump fell off when he was 5 days old, though his bellybutton did ooze for a few more days.

The next day we weighed and measured him, for the sole purpose of showing that I do indeed produce only 6 pound, 10 ounce babies (all three of the others were that weight, were between 18 and 20 inches long, and had 12 1/2 inch heads). Well, I broke my track record. Baby weighs 8 pounds, is 20 1/4 inches long, and has a 14 1/2 inch head.

Perhaps there was a reason that his emergence was on a different level of intensity than his siblings had been! It explains why his face was a bit puffy when he was born and why he has a couple of broken blood vessels in his eyes, yet he had no head molding (he came down so fast!). It also explains why my tail bone was sore and felt out of place. Matt said, “You got out of his way.” Glad I am to have done it! I would rather be sore than have my baby be.

My body fared very well, considering how shaken apart I felt when birthing. My yoni had no damage at all. Though the whole area felt a bit swollen, it wasn’t visible and there was no stinging when I peed. It did feel a little numb for a couple of days, and I had to be careful to hold myself together there when I coughed (which I did a lot, since I was sick) or a bit of pee would come out--another new experience for me!

I had afterpains that were more intense than after Dora’s, and lasted for three days. Motherwort and Motrin once again helped out. I bled more than after Dora’s birth, but it was still pretty minimal. It was like a medium flow period that lasted for about four days, then began lessening. My milk came in Tuesday night (I think--it might have been Wednesday morning). Part of Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, my breasts were quite engorged. Cabbage leaves didn’t help quite as much this time, so I encouraged a more than willing Dora to nurse a lot, which helped lessen the swelling. (Tonight, she asked to nurse, and as she was waiting, she lay in bed rubbing her tummy and whispering, “Yummy, yummy…”)

As we were sure that it would be Ursula Grace joining us, we hadn’t totally settled on a boy’s name, though Albion was our top pick. We decided to simply let his name find us. Albion kept coming back to us, so it became a matter of what his middle name would be. The night of the 27th, Matt dreamt that Wilhelm was Albion's middle name, and early in the morning of the 28th (same night), Wilhelm just popped into my head as the obvious and perfect name. Mama was apparently here and helping us out... (Wilhelm was Mama’s maiden name). So, our little boy is Albion Wilhelm Jasper.

Dora's choice of "Poopy Head" did not win, though she insists that it is his name. William wanted his middle name to be "Love", which is a beautiful thought. Max thinks that Albion is just too weird, but thinks he will get used to it (caught him calling baby "Bob" today). Matt is planning to call this poor little guy "Al".

Everyone is totally in love with Albion. All of the children are doing wonderfully, being very gentle and loving towards him. Dora, being sick, is a bit needier than usual, but doesn’t begrudge the baby what he needs. Only one time, when she was exhausted, she said to me, “I want you to hold me instead of the baby.” So we spent a nice time cuddling in bed…

I feel so blessed to have this little person in my life. He is sainted and brilliant, and utterly divine. When he is awake and looking around, the depths of his soul shine through his eyes. He sees us fully, with sweet humor in his eyes. He has been smiling since the night he was born, and each one feels like an incredible gift.

]]>Dora's Birth Story by Beatrice JasperLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:45:21 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/doras-birth-story-by-beatrice-jasper52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfd7be4b06a0b7ba77180So, for the last few weeks (gee, maybe longer), I have been having a lot of
pretty strong Braxton Hicks- though some were so strong that I could feel
my cervix changing a bit, so I wouldn't call those BHs. So, for the last few weeks (gee, maybe longer), I have been having a lot of pretty strong Braxton Hicks- though some were so strong that I could feel my cervix changing a bit, so I wouldn't call those BHs. Anyway, recently, I was having them pretty regularly every evening and throughout the night- nothing to make me think I was in labor, and pretty much what happened with my last preg, so not surprising. We assumed all along that I would birth two weeks early, just like both boys- so I was pretty amazed when we went past the end of March! And kept going...

On Friday, I noticed a change in the expansions- they were now a little crampy in my lower belly and I could feel them through my lower back, too. I had a few like that on Friday, and also on Saturday, but other than thinking I was closer to the birth, I didn't think much of them. I had a few evenings like that towards the end of William's preg, too.

Saturday night, I was up every hour or so with the crampy expansions, and to pee. Still thinking nothing of it- but I did mention it to Matt in the morning. As I was checking e-mail, I realized that they were coming every eight minutes or so- still assuming that I was nowhere near to birth, just getting ready. They didn't take any thought at all, so we just went about the day as usual. Though they did get closer together, I wasn't having any bloody show (which I had early on with both boys), though I did lose another glob of mucous (which I also thought nothing of, since I had been losing little bits for weeks). Also no diarrhea- but I was peeing a lot (again, that was "just because I was drinking lots of water" :). I vaguely thought that I might birth in a few days- this was just a gradual warmup... I would "really" be in labor when the bloody show and diarrhea started :).

I was really sleepy, and decided to take a nap- which slowed things down a little. See? I wasn't in labor...

'Round about 2 pm, I finally started thinking that *maybe* I was in early labor- which is when I posted to CBIRTH about it- fully assuming that I would be writing back later to say that I was going to bed because things had stopped...

About quarter to three, I lay back down for another nap and slept for about half an hour- again deciding that I was not in labor, since the expansions slowed way down. Then tried to get the boys to nap at 3:30- but they were too rambunctious and I had a couple of expansions that made me breathe pretty heavily, so I gave up the nap idea.

At fourish, I suddenly realized *I WAS IN LABOR*- things just really went into high gear. I had begun to have the expansions every few minutes, so I put Matt to work filling the labor tub. In the meantime, I rubbed my lower belly with arnica and clary sage oil- it felt wonderful! The expansions were getting pretty intense at this point. I also rubbed my lower back, which was pretty achey- I did a pelvic press on myself, and as the expansions died down, I would slide my hands firmly down my hip bones. I found that my favorite place to be was in the bathroom, standing holding onto the changing table. I held the railing really firmly, and pressed my chest into it, while doing a standing squat. I *had* to look at the sky through the expansions- if I closed my eyes, or looked down, they *hurt*- looking out the window kept me feeling that they were just intense. I still didn't feel that I was that close, because during transition with my others, I vocalized *a lot*.

Finally, the tub had enough water in it to get in. The first expansion in there was *IMMENSE* and almost bowled me over. I either sat or kneeled in the tub, and leaned forward, pressing my face into it during the expansions. I felt the need to be perfectly still, so when William decided to join me, I got more uncomfortable... I finally had Matt take him out (by being bribed with candy! all this time, Max was watching TV). I got out and spent some time in the bathroom, then went back to the tub. But I started to feel like I had to poop (and was thinking "ok, so how many times have I laughed when a woman insists she has to poop when the baby is coming? but *I* am not that close!"), so I went to the toilet- no poop. I ended up staying in there at my favorite spot, and was overwhelmed with curiousity about what my cervix felt like (lots of virtual strangers have had their hands in my pookie - why not me?). I reached in and felt a rim of cervix and... the baby's head and hair!! It was still behind the cervix, and I didn't have a clue how dilated I was, but thought, "well, it's at least halfway". I told Matt about feeling the head, and he thought that was cool. I also told him that I had no idea how far along I was...

After he left, I realized that I was really close. I got a catch in my throat- and thought that my body might be close to pushing. I told him that when he came back (with William)- and suddenly, my body just took over and began pressing down on the baby. I started to involuntarily groan, and my whole body was pushed into a deep standing squat- it was amazing and so powerful that I was in awe, which kept me from being totally overwhelmed. He left with William to tell Max to come up- Max came and said that he would have to cover his ears, because of the loud noises (though I wasn't making many, he remembered the last time)- then he said "I'm outta here!" and went back down. Matt went out to tell him that if he wanted to see the birth, he had to come as soon as we called, but to stay down there if he wanted to.

All of a sudden, the baby just came flying about half-way down (hey, wait, I am still waiting for bloody show to tell me I am in labor!:)- it was incredible, just this sudden intense pressure. I pressed my hand to my crotch, feeling a little liquid coming out and called, "Matt! Now!" He came running in and asked me what I needed, if something was wrong... All I could say was "BAAAAAAABYYYYYYY!". I was still standing at the changing table, and William investigated between my legs when Matt told him the baby would be coming soon. Matt put his hands betwen my legs, to be able to catch the baby (I shoved them away- I wanted *nothing* near there!), and asked if I wanted to move, since I was pretty far from the ground. I told him I wasn't sure if I could (the head was so close to crowning), but I waddled to the birth room, while holding onto my crotch (I realy really wanted to catch the birth on video! and we did!). I kneeled on the futon, over the pile of rags and blankets there. Matt and William turned the video camera on, and then started to play- Matt did not realize that the head was on its way out! I managed to tell him to get Max - which he did in a hurry when he saw the head was about to emerge.

I was on hands and knees, while holding my crotch with one hand. The pressure was incredible, and I pressed onto the head some to keep it from coming too quickly. All this time, though my body was doing everything instinctually, I had a little logical voice going in my head- "now, should I press on the front of my yoni, or the back? when the head comes out, I will feel a pop! and that will be such a relief...". I also had the presence of mind to move my hair, in case it was in the way of the camera.

Then her head *did* come out, and it *was* a relief :). I had to move all of the way up onto my knees so that I could see her over my belly, and I watched in amazement as the head slowly turned as the body rotated- all the while feeling it turning inside me too. No need for "assisting the rotation" here! I wasn't even touching her. Then the baby just slid out, landing right on the futon- I was close enough to it that she didn't have far to go, but I did have my hands on her. I just looked at her for a few moments, lying there all purple, with the umbilical cord wrapped over her shoulders.

Then I picked her up- deliberately, though unconsciously (I know, it doesn't make sense, but that is how I remember it) covering her bottom up with my hand. I didn't want anyone to know what the sex was until I had some time with the baby. I unwrapped her cord from around her, and held her, watching her gurgle a bit, then cry a little. I put a blanket over her, then noticed a big piece of mucous in her mouth, so I sucked it out with my mouth and spit it out- I didn't even have to think about it, it was just the natural thing to do. She cried a little more after that, but quieted down as I kissed her and talked to her. It was so wonderful to be able to see her change from purple to a lovely rosy pink- beautiful! Matt was taking some photos, and the boys were gathered around looking at the baby. Max asked what the sex was, and Matt told him we didn't know yet. Matt looked at her face and said "Oh, you look just like your mama!". We both *knew* she was a girl the moment we saw her, but didn't have the proof of looking yet. A few minutes later, I checked under the blanket, and all I had to say to Matt was "OH! Matt!!" to confirm that we finally had our Eudora. I realized we hadn't looked to see what time she was born, and Matt estimated that it was about 5:50 (funny, the same time and day of week as Laurie's baby)- which makes it less than two hours from when I realized I really *was* in labor!

She decided to nurse then, and would not let go except to change sides until over two and a half hours later! So, I ended up sitting in a soggy place on the futon all that time, but I got pretty comfy with some pillows Max brought in- and of course I had Dora to gaze at! She was incredibly healthy- pink, alert, and breathing wonderfully. When everyone was out of the room, I decided to push with one of the exps. I was having, and the placenta came out. I didn't even look at it- it was between my legs under a blanket, and it didn't need my attention.

After about two and a half hours, I got a little tired of sitting attached to the placenta via the baby (I didn't mind her nursing, of course!), so I cut the cord- it had finally stopped pulsing, even at her belly. Matt made a couple of placenta prints and drew some cord blood out. She stopped nursing then, so Papa finally got to hold her while I washed the blood off of my feet- and then I tidied up the birth room... :) Matt said that I looked like I could run a marathon- I felt like it, too!

We had some dinner, then went to bed. I was up and down a few times with Dora to change her multitudes of meconium diapers (after the first time of cleaning it up off of her legs from having her just wrapped in blankets, I put her in some really soft diapers- it definitely made it easier to clean her up). She got pretty loud at one point, so I moved to the other bed, so she wouldn't wake anyone up. I did get some sleep, but my afterpains got pretty intense and I was woken by them. Motherwort tincture helped a little, but I finally took a Motrin, and that helped a lot. I am barely bleeding at all, and I have *no* evidence that I just gave birth- not a scratch. My yoni isn't even swollen! A nice change from the other times (one episiotomy, one with skid marks and swelling).

Dora has spent all of her time in my arms, sleeping and nursing... and nursing in her sleep... This probably could have been typed faster with two hands, but I am not letting her go yet!

* * * * * * *

Note from Laura: A few months after the birth, someone asked Beatrice about her pain quotient. Here is her response.

Q: Can I ask you about your *pain quotient*?

A: Hmm, for most of the day, I was having just the tiniest bit of crampiness now and then during contractions. Mostly they were just tight through my lower back. All of that got slightly more intense later in the day- 'round about 3:30ish. My most overwhelming feeling was one of sleepiness! I just kept wanting to nap. When I did, everything slowed down- until around 3:30, when I was trying to get the boys to nap. I think that it may have felt a little more intense then (not painful, just requiring a little thought and deep breathing) because I tensed up at not being able to get the kids to nap (I wanted them to be well rested so that when we got them up in the middle of the night- remember, I "always" birth at night- they wouldn't melt down).

Anyway, when I gave up getting them to go down, I turned them back over to Matt and spent some time alone. That was when I started to do more belly/back rubbing with the labor oil (arnica and clary sage in olive oil), and I swayed a little during some contractions. I still had no pain, but did have some achiness in my back and hips- like I had been on a long hike, sort of... doing a pelvic press on myself took that achiness away. I did have some crampiness in my lower belly. Right around four, I arbitrarily told Matt (I felt like I was making it up- or making it true by saying it- sort of suspension of disbelief) that I thought the baby would be born by five. He sort of said "really? why do you think that?" and I just said it was just a feeling... (i was off by about 45 minutes in my estimation!:)

Then between 4:03 and 4:09 (I just happend to look at the clock), I had *3* contractions. (I had been having them about every six minutes before then) and they were *strong*- but still no pain, just everything I had been feeling was suddenly more intense- during one, I held onto Matt and we swayed together. That was nice, but didn't do quite what I wanted for the achiness. I had been going back and forth to the toilet to pee a lot, and if I was sitting on the toilet during a contraction it did feel uncomfortable- not pain, more like it just didn't feel "right" and I wanted to stand up. I started to spend more time in the bathroom holding the changing table, and after 4:10 or so, like I said, everything felt more intense. Still no *pain*, but I did want quiet and to look at the sky. (Like I said in the story, if I looked down from the sky, the intensity did feel like pain a couple of times- but if I kept my eyes on the sky, no pain.)

And time just stood still- I had no idea what time it was, and I didn't care. I had no idea how often the contractions were coming- and I didn't care. I just let myself be swept away with them- and kept my eyes on the sky. I really enjoyed it! When I did sort of think about it, I thought that I was finally in early labor and that I would have the baby that night...I was in *transition*!!! Then after I felt her head inside- and I was about halfway open- her head flew right down to almost crowning. I still felt no pain, but just an intense fullness and openess, and *almost* a moment of panic, because it happened so fast. But then I realized that all was well, waddled to the bed and kneeled.

That is when the tape started- I (do I sound like a broken record yet?;) had no pain from the crowning, just the same fullness, and wonder at feeling her head as it was emerging (and that little voice in my head I mentioned in the story)- no burning, some stretching feelings. I just breathed (without thinking about it) and let my body do the work- with a couple small involuntary pushes (you can hear and see them on the tape)- then that cry at the sudden release as her head was born (it didn't hurt, but that *feeling*- whew! though it didn't hurt, it *was* a relief). So, my pain quotient? None... :)

]]>My Decision To Have An Unassisted Homebirth by Lisa J. Patton, Livermore Falls, MaineLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:44:01 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/my-decision-to-have-an-unassisted-homebirth-by-lisa-j-patton-livermore-falls-maine52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfd3ee4b0dd674ecfe9b0During the early months of my third pregnancy, while under the care of my
OB, I began questioning traditional medicine and hospital birth. I
delivered my first two children in the hospital.During the early months of my third pregnancy, while under the care of my OB, I began questioning traditional medicine and hospital birth. I delivered my first two children in the hospital.

With my first pregnancy I went into labor at 37.5 weeks. My water broke at 2:20 a.m. After laboring at home for four hours I headed to the hospital. I received a prostaglandin suppository and was told to walk. Four hours later, with hardly any progression, I was given another suppository, placed on a Pitocin drip, IV fluids, and was on an external fetal monitor. After laboring for 10 hours, I was not progressing quickly enough, so they performed artificial rupture of the membranes, placed me on a blood pressure monitor, gave me Demerol, and switched me to an internal fetal monitor. Being connected to so many machines, I could no longer walk or change positions. I was on my back, where I remained for the next 9 hours. After 19 hours of labor, I was given an epidural, which only took on one side. I vomited, which helped me reach 9 cm, and was told to push. About 15 minutes later the baby was crowning. The doctor performed an episiotomy and the head emerged. He twisted and pulled, and my daughter slid out. Amber weighed 5 lbs., 11 ozs. CLEARLY there was no need for an episiotomy. I felt drugged for hours afterward. (August 13, 1993)

With my second pregnancy I wanted the birth to go differently. I was three days past my due date when my water broke at 3:30 a.m. I put a towel under me and went back to sleep until 6:30. I got up, took my time showering and dressing, and arrived at the hospital at about 9:00. When they found out when my water had broken they immediately gave me a prostaglandin suppository and told me to walk. Determined to avoid Pitocin, I wanted to walk for as long as I could. At about 11:30 I had reached 5 cm and was given Demerol and continued to walk. I was still trying to walk at 7 cm but the contractions were so close that I resigned to the birthing stool. By the time I asked for another shot of Demerol, I was examined, and found to be 10 cm. I was told to push at 4:05 p.m. and was crowning by 4:19. I turned down the offer for an episiotomy, and ripped when my daughter's head emerged. She had not turned completely, and therefore developed a large contusion at the top of her head. Her quick descent did not allow time for her lungs to drain, so the nurse whisked her away to the nursery for suction, and placed her in an incubator. Jasmin was 8 lbs. (August 5, 1995)

Surely, I thought, many of the unpleasantries of these two birth experiences could have been avoided. Why was such a natural process met with medical calamity?

In the early months of my third pregnancy, my husband, Aaron and I discussed having a home birth with a midwife. I really wanted an unassisted birth, but I knew he was uneasy with the idea. We spoke with several midwives, but were dismayed with the amount of intervention they each proposed. We wanted no outside intervention unless there was a problem. We finally decided an unassisted birth was the only way to have things the way WE wanted them. I searched the Internet for anything about home birth and unassisted birth. I was thrilled with the amount of information available. I read Laura Shanley's book, Unassisted Childbirth. I felt empowered. Throughout the remainder of my pregnancy I continued to read anything on homebirth that I laid eyes on.

Aaron is a Certified Hypnotherapist, so we prepared for hypnobirthing with weekly sessions. I found a birthing supply company and ordered the supplies I felt would be needed. I purchased an infant scale at a local thrift store, and gathered some of the items I had in the house, like dark towels, washcloths, and a steel bowl for the placenta. I sterilized a pair of scissors and placed them in a zip lock bag. I was ready. I continued seeing my OB, but did not discuss my plan to have an unassisted birth with him or anyone I thought might dissuade me. My due date was January 23, and I was looking forward to the birth. During the week prior to the birth I had a couple of false alarms (convincing ones). Nevertheless, I went into true labor at 1:20 a.m. on my due date. I had planned to include my two daughters in the birth, but they were both sick with the flu, so I sent them to my mother's around 7:00. I milled around the house in my robe, eating and drinking as I desired. Around noon things got more intense, so I sat down in the recliner. My husband helped me relax through each contraction as we had practiced. It was approaching 2:30 when I felt nauseous. After my next contraction I made my way to the bathroom and vomited. I knew I was in transition.

Immediately after vomiting, I felt the pressure of the head descending. I told Aaron to turn the video camera on (it was on a tripod). I crawled into the bedroom where I had a disposable sheet spread on the floor. I laid a chux pad on top of that between my knees. Bearing down slightly with each contraction, I felt the baby descend naturally. I stayed on my knees. As she crowned, I relaxed and breathed deeply, allowing my perineum time to stretch. With the next contraction my water broke and her head was out. My perineum remained intact. Aaron looked on but did not interfere. He was very excited to see our baby's head; he said, "She's got a head full of hair!" I felt her body turn inside me. I felt her face with my hand. She was moving her mouth in an attempt to cry. She slid out (more like shot out) into my hands, and I placed her beneath me on the sheet. It was 2:47 p.m.

She was calm - Aaron was laughing with excitement and taking photos. I talked gently to our new daughter, massaged her chest and back, and picked her up into my arms. She cried robustly. I gently slid my thumb and finger down the sides of her nose to clear out any fluid. We wrapped her in a towel and awaited the placenta, which arrived about half an hour later. We then clamped and cut the cord. I felt wonderful! I sat on the bed with a clean chux under me and held the baby, while Aaron wrapped up and threw away the soiled sheet and chux. We weighed and measured her at 7 lbs., 20 inches. I took a quick shower to rinse off, then got into bed. I nursed her and admired this new being I had delivered into my own hands. We named her LaVergerray, after his mother. (January 23, 2001)

Our unassisted homebirth was the most peaceful, empowering experience I had ever had. It was the birth I had dreamed it could be.

]]>Safe Inside the Storm by Liana WeedLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:41:10 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/safe-inside-the-storm-by-liana-weed52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfc70e4b038501428a54eMy water broke early on the morning of Saturday, April 6, 2002. It wasn't
much, just a trickle, and there were no contractions yet. So I got up and
went to some garage sales and spent the rest of the day straightening the
house, resting, and playing with the kids.

My water broke early on the morning of Saturday, April 6, 2002. It wasn't much, just a trickle, and there were no contractions yet. So I got up and went to some garage sales and spent the rest of the day straightening the house, resting, and playing with the kids.

Contractions started at some point during the day, but never got regular. I continued leaking fluid and having irregular baby hugs until Sunday night, the 7th. By 9 pm they finally settled into a rhythm of about 10 minutes apart. A thunderstorm began brewing outside and I knew it was going to be a wild night. As we lay in bed, contractions began getting stronger, while outside lightning flashed and thunder boomed. I felt myself being drawn into the storm....there was such a sense of primal earthly power laboring in the dark alone while my husband slept.

By 1:45 am they were strong enough that I needed to get up and move around a bit. I woke Kyron up around 3 am needing his help. We turned on a dim lamp in the bedroom, and prepared the bed with plastic covers and sheets. I had planned on laboring in an inflatable pool if it felt right, but after getting in the shower I realized I wanted away from the water during contractions. Kyron was a bit relieved that he didn't have to fill that pool after all!

By 5:30 am Connor, our four-year-old, woke up and joined us. Kyron couldn't take care of him and me both, so I called my mother and she was here by 6:30. By this time, I needed everything I had to stay focused and relaxed. I remember thinking that I would probably labor on for several more hours, not giving birth until maybe by afternoon. I've always had long labors, so I was mentally prepared for it.

Around 7:30 I hollered out to my mom, "How do you know when you're in transition?" She was quiet for a moment then answered, "I don't know, sweetie." (She knew I was there, but she knew I didn't want to hear it.) Kyron said, “Honey, I think you’re in transition now.” No I couldn’t be, I argued, “If I were in transition, I wouldn’t be talking sensibly to you right now!” I also remember feeling so in tune with what was going on in my body, I could actually feel a pulling sensation at my cervix during these strong contractions. I’ve never been aware of that before. I also found that if I dropped my jaw and moaned a low, deep OOOooooohhhhhh, during these intense hugs, I could feel a connection between my mouth and my cervix. I tried just blowing through a contraction once, and it was absolutely painful, in fact, I couldn’t catch my breath. So, back to deep moaning.

At some point I told Kyron it was time to wake up our 7 year old, Audrey. She stayed in the room for a while watching, and during a rest I asked her if my moans scared her. She smiled and said no. Then things really picked up and I could feel that strong pressure on my tailbone along with that familiar out of this world stretching sensation. I was on my knees at the side of the bed and I told Kyron, “It CAN’T be time for the baby yet, it hasn’t been long enough!” I felt inside of me and couldn’t feel a head yet, which actually relieved me. I was in such denial that birth was so imminent! A couple hugs later and I started feeling that urge to panic – I knew that feeling and it meant birth was moments away. I felt inside once more and this time felt a head just a couple inches inside!

“Momma! I can feel the head!” I yelled. She and the kids filed into the hallway so they could see the birth. I had to get off my knees, so I stood up, turned around and sat on the very edge of the bed with my feet apart, planted on the floor. I leaned back a bit and supported my weight with my arms behind me. Kyron got on the floor between my legs and suggested I move into a better position, perhaps in a squat. A fearsome voice that I hardly recognized as my own screamed/shouted “NO!!” Wild horses couldn’t move me at that point. He tried again, this time trying to reason with me that he didn’t think the baby would be able to come out the way I was sitting, and my legs weren’t far enough apart…etc. I was barely able to get out the words, “YES!!! NOT MOVING!!” One push and I heard Audrey exclaim “I see the head!” With the next push his head was out! A rest for a moment, then I told Kyron, “Get ready, it’s coming!” and his body slid out quickly. Kyron immediately handed the baby up to me. He began breathing and gasping at that point and I started bawling, I was SO HAPPY!

I looked down and saw he was a boy, and laughed – I was convinced he was a girl all along! The cord was very short, so I couldn’t put him to the breast just yet. I held him for a while, then felt the urge to push the placenta out within about 15 minutes. I handed the baby to Kyron and stood up while holding a bowl between my legs. A huge placenta came out within minutes, but not all the way. It stayed attached by the membrane. So we decided to be patient and hopefully it would detach on its own in a few minutes. After 20 minutes, it was just too awkward. So we cut the membrane, leaving an inch or so hanging out.

To make the placenta story short, that piece remained firmly attached up there for 24 hours. And during that time I kept having unbelievably painful, long, afterpains. I took a high dose of homeopathic silica that evening, and by the next morning, I was able to work the piece of retained placenta out. After that, my afterpains stopped.

I did tear in two places, but it has healed on its own now.

After the excitement and rush of having the baby settled down, I looked out and noticed the storm had died, and the sun was breaking through the clouds. We have a profusion of wisteria vines covering our oak trees in the front of the house, and the storm had blown millions of purple petals onto the ground and driveway. But Audrey had a more poetic explanation. After cleaning myself up and settling into bed with Zane, Audrey came bouncing into the bedroom exclaiming, “Mom! The fairies knew our baby was coming last night and they covered our driveway in flowers to welcome him!”

I have already had two midwife assisted births, and this was my first unassisted birth. It was also by far the smoothest, most enjoyable birth I’ve ever had. I decided I wouldn’t check dilation because I didn’t want to ever feel discouraged, and I also felt that it might’ve kept me from being completely in tune with my body. I also decided not to time any contractions – I didn’t want to be focused on a clock; again, something that may have taken me away from my body. I believe that played a key role in making my labor fly by so fast. And just being able to labor in the dark, on my own, without attendants making suggestions or bustling in the background made this birth a sacred event. If I could do this birth all over again, I wouldn’t change a single thing...except for maybe putting another piece of plastic over the side of the bed – I got blood on my brand new bedskirt. ;)

]]>Safe Inside the Storm by Liana WeedZachary - Having a Baby "On the Way!" by Laura Joy FrancisLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:39:38 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/zachary-having-a-baby-on-the-way-by-laura-joy-francis52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfc11e4b038501428a48eOne day overdue, I was awakened by the first contraction at 7:00 am. This
was it! I had to moan through the contraction - "ahhhhhhhhhh" - the
birthing song that I had learned during labor with my first child, Alyssa,
2 years earlier. I waited and timed another contraction. 15 minutes apart.
I mumbled to John, "I'm in labor, but go ahead and sleep a while longer.
It'll probably be a long day."One day overdue, I was awakened by the first contraction at 7:00 am. This was it! I had to moan through the contraction - "ahhhhhhhhhh" - the birthing song that I had learned during labor with my first child, Alyssa, 2 years earlier. I waited and timed another contraction. 15 minutes apart. I mumbled to John, "I'm in labor, but go ahead and sleep a while longer. It'll probably be a long day."

Alyssa's birth (a planned hospital birth) had been 12 1/2 hours, cut short by a vacuum extraction after my "failure to progress" even with oxytocin augmentation. I was figuring I’d be in labor at least 5 hours for this birth.

I called a few of my friends to let them know I was in labor, stopping occasionally in mid-sentence to focus on a contraction. After a while I noticed they were getting closer together and stronger (!) so I timed a couple of contractions: 4 minutes apart?!!!? Yeeks! I got off the phone and woke John up so we could get going to the hospital. We had a 90 minute drive ahead of us. We are a military family and were living in Germany. It had taken time and divine intervention to find this fantastic alternative clinic - a birthing section of a small hospital, whose midwives and obstetricians had personal training from Michel Odent and Frederick Leboyer. My La Leche League leader, who had birthed two of her children there, had referred me to this wonderful place. I was grateful because I was definitely not going to have my baby at the military hospital, for reasons I will explain later, which left German hospitals. I had "fired" two local German obstetricians because they were setting off huge danger signals in me.

A short example of danger signs: the first one snorted at me and rolled his eyes when I told him I would like to wait until the cord stops pulsating to cut it. He said he'd do it that way if we “really” wanted to. The second kept assuring me I'd get whatever I wanted, but when I went down to the delivery area and asked the doctor on call (they rotated about seven obstetricians, so you didn't know who you would get) some questions he said, "Well, I guess you could walk around after you're in active labor, but we really prefer the laboring mother to stay in her bed." Ughhh. These were definitely not people who respected and encouraged non-interventive birth. I had no reason to believe they would respect and encourage laboring mothers and newborns either!

Because of my experience with my daughter's birth, in a German hospital in a different part of Germany, I learned how crucial it is to interview the obstetrician, the labor and delivery nurses, andthe nursery to determine if they have “practices” that are compatible with my needs and beliefs. I also learned to trust and act on my intuition while interacting with hospital personnel; it can make the difference between a deeply violating and wounding experience that haunts you, and one of the most incredibly empowering and joyful epiphanies of your life. I've had one of each.

John got Alyssa up and dressed (she was two years old at the time) and went to warm up the car. As I moaned through some contractions on my hands and knees, Alyssa laid one hand on my shoulder and sucked her thumb while staring at me thoughtfully. The contractions were painful and powerful. I felt my sureness of being ready to birth this baby waver, but I felt comforted knowing I was going to have safe people around me this time who respected my wishes and the wisdom of my body.

We dropped Alyssa off at a friend's house and took off down the road. We must have been in denial since my contractions were 3 1/2 - 4 minutes apart and a full minute long. But staying at home didn't even cross my mind; I was focused only on my contractions and the image of arriving at the hospital in Kirschheimbolanden, where my carefully chosen midwife was waiting with a huge dreamy hot bath for me to loll in while I labored. Maybe I would even decide to have the baby in the water.

Facing John, I labored sitting on my feet and leaning against a pillow. With my right hand, I held onto the handle above the window behind me. My favorite meditation music, “Christofori's Dream,” floated from the speakers and I hummed and moaned the tunes which carried me through wave after wave of contractions. John was in his own world as well, focused solely on getting us to the hospital as quickly as possible. Wave after wave after wave - the movement of the car paired with my powerful, persistent contractions, made it feel like I was at sea! The waves thundered within me, rolling in and then ebbing out, stronger and faster until suddenly, "splash!" My true waters brought my attention back to the physical realm by rolling down my legs and crashing across the seat. We were still at least 30 minutes away even though John was going over 90 mph - we weren't going to make it.

At that point, we were right at the exit that would have taken us to the Landstuhl American military hospital. John asked me if he should turn off. No way! A month earlier I supported a friend while she birthed her baby there: automatic i.v., internal fetal monitor, rushing from the labor room to the delivery room while the baby was crowning, whisking the baby away to the heater and then the nursery, paternalistic attitudes, etc. - a whole ensemble of traumatic procedures crowded into the last 30 minutes of her labor (we almost didn't make it to the hospital for her birth either!). I wasn't about to expose my baby or myself to a myriad of interventions and trauma after working so hard to find a hospital with gentle birthing practices! I was in control of what happened to us in birth this time, and being raped by machines, needles, medical fluids, and attitudes was not in my plans.

The swells were now coming so close together that it felt almost like one continuous contraction. My entire focus was within me - on the ring of fire that was slowly but surely expanding. I moaned loudly and clawed in an almost desperate manner at John's shoulder, but inside I did not feel desperate at all - the incredibly powerful energy surging through my body was coming to a head; I was at the apex of a Tsunami. I gasped, calling out, "Oh God, oh my God!" I felt like I was about to have an incredible orgasm.

And then suddenly, the waters stilled. My heart stilled. My body stilled. I was completely open, in heart and in body. All pain stopped completely, not to return until getting stitches for a perineal tear. And slowly, out of the stillness, came an urge - a pushing, a grunting, an unstoppable force. I panted and tried to breathe deeply with a moan, which ended up as "ahhhhhh--G!" The grunt was low and from the deepest part of my being - the place where my soul connects me to Mother Earth. John noticed the shift in my labor and asked, "Should I pull over?" I didn't answer. I didn't hear him. I was in the world of creation. I did not actively push at all; I allowed my body to take control. It obviously knew what it was doing! I was a fascinated observer.

I felt fullness at my vulva. I reached into my pants to feel it. His head was right there - a half-dollar of hairy head at my fingertips. I explored the skin that encircled his head and was amazed to feel my incredibly strong and elastic perineal skin stretched taut - further than I had thought it could ever stretch. I panted a little and tried to breathe through some pushing contractions. They weren't as frequent as the dilating contractions, but I could feel each one bring the baby down just a little further.

I began to massage my perineum to see if I could coax it to relax. The pressure was tremendous. My abdominal muscles were so strong - I wanted to lie on my side to slow down the descent, but I couldn't manage with the front seat controls which you "unscrew" to lower the back of the seat slowly. Suddenly, "uh-G!" - a feeling of clearing the heights of orgasm exploded. My body took over completely and suddenly my son's head was resting in my hand: large, wet, round and soft. It was amazing. I could feel his ears, his nose, his tiny mouth. I managed to stammer under my breath, "He's crowning!" (a minute late and a half-dollar short!). And as John was desperately trying to find some shoulder space to pull onto (none was available - he finally found a sort of fork where a country road led off), I felt the whole baby shift, and turn. His shoulders delivered into my hands.

At the same time that his upper torso was twisting and birthing, I went into Vision:

I saw myself as a mother fox giving birth to several pups in a warm, foresty den. I saw the trees and then the vastness of the wilderness; the vastness of the universe. I became one with all - especially animals and humans, through the common experience of birthing. I finally experienced the blissful feeling of what I had heard described as "oneness" - an explosion of pure love throughout my being. This only lasted a few seconds, but I experience that sacred feeling again every time I recall the vision.

Pulling my much more roomy waistband outward with a free hand, I peered into my left pant leg, and thought, "Look! It's a baby!" John watched ecstatically as I gently pulled the rest of the baby's body out from within me and laid him across my lap, marveling at this miracle gift! It was 9:40 am - a 2 hour and 40 minute birth!

Zachary began breathing immediately - probably before I had even lifted him up. It didn't even occur to me that he might have trouble breathing, or that I might need to suction his nose or mouth. There was no sense of danger whatsoever; everything was unfolding as it should. His arms and legs were grayish, but his face and torso were bright pink. I offered my breast to him, but he wasn't interested. I think he was cold - it was the middle of winter, in the middle of the country, in a huge car. I laid him across the middle of the warm skin of my bare chest and covered him with a pink, oversized towel we had brought "just in case." John turned the heat up to high and Zach soon calmed down.

The euphoria of Zachary's birth was overwhelming - we sat and relished in it, welcoming this new little person into our world. We took some video and pictures and goo-gooed, kissed and loved him and each other. When I felt some pushy contractions I knew my placenta had separated, so as it delivered, I wrapped it in one end of the towel and tucked it underneath Zachary. I love placentas - they're so colorful!

Then we decided we were ready to go on to the hospital. We were both famished, so we stopped at a bakery on the way and John got a couple of huge soft pretzels. It was so strange - people were walking by the car, and there I was, with just enough towel to cover me from breast to thigh, with an obviously brand new baby in my arms, and nobody seemed to notice. I wanted to shout,"Look at me! I just had a baby ALL BY MYSELF!!! I am a Goddess!!!"

We arrived at the hospital and John went in to get our midwife. She brought out a gurney, which struck me as absurd. I could have easily walked, though I was completely naked by then - not that I cared. She helped me onto the gurney - baby in one arm and pretzel in the other - and wheeled me past a group of amused and curious onlookers - to the room in which I had imagined, for the last few months, I would be giving birth. After I nursed Zach for a while, John gave him a Leboyer bath, and then the doctor checked Zach over: 7 pounds, 4 ounces and almost 22 inches. I did, unfortunately, tear, but it was much less traumatic than the huge mediolateral episiotomy that I had been given with Alyssa's birth (4 1/2 years ago). I still often feel twinges of pain from the episiotomy scar, but not from my natural tear. The doctor stitched up my tear, I took a nice hot shower, then Zach and I snuggled and snoozed in a bed together for a couple of hours while John drove to a nearby military base to buy a carseat. (In our rush to get going, we had left our carseat at home - oops!)

It was our choice to check out 5 hours after we had arrived. On the return trip home, we stopped at my dear friend's house. She was 15 years old and had followed me through my pregnancy. She held Zachary when he was 6 hours old and is now his Godmother. She is making plans to become a homebirth midwife, as I am also.

Several women, upon learning of my experience, have said, "Oh, you're so lucky that nothing went wrong!" This makes me sad because it shows how deeply people, and especially women, fear birth, and how they expect complications. Birth has turned from a natural life experience to a medical emergency. Another comment people often make is, "Oh, so your husband caught the baby." I get angry at this one. "No, I caught my baby." Women giving birth are not powerless victims of nature. We weremade/evolved to give birth, with or without external help. WE CAN DO IT!

If I have another baby, it will definitely be a planned homebirth, with or without a midwife. Because of Zach's birth, I KNOW my ability to give birth: it's natural, it's beautiful, it's safe!

]]>Peaceful Surrender by StacyLaura ShanleyFri, 31 Jan 2014 19:38:25 +0000http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/birth-stories/category/peaceful-surrender-by-stacy52cea7d2e4b0d7f7272cdf57:52eadd9ae4b0ef4b53eaf12e:52ebfbd5e4b0502c0558f351I dreamed of delivering my own baby, unassisted since I first became aware
of where babies come from. I really could not fathom the idea of being
watched by strangers for such an intimate act. At 22 I gave birth to my
first baby at home with my boyfriend, a midwife and her assistant. The
presence of the assistant just sucked! I did not like her one bit. The
homebirth was definitely a joy and I really felt accomplished at not doing
it in a hospital, but it was not the fulfillment of my dream.I dreamed of delivering my own baby, unassisted since I first became aware of where babies come from. I really could not fathom the idea of being watched by strangers for such an intimate act. At 22 I gave birth to my first baby at home with my boyfriend, a midwife and her assistant. The presence of the assistant just sucked! I did not like her one bit. The homebirth was definitely a joy and I really felt accomplished at not doing it in a hospital, but it was not the fulfillment of my dream.

When I was 23 I handled a second trimester miscarriage alone at home. It was a missed abortion, I knew the baby had died but it did not come out for three months. So many midwives, nurses and doctors told me to stay on bed rest and get a D&C but I would not. After three months of taking it easy, I decided to take a bike ride. I rode 12 miles and when I got home I went into labor and passed the fetus intact within the amniotic sac, easily and without any of the feared complications that so many people warned me of.

At 29 I gave birth to my son at home. I labored with my boyfriend at home all night, planning to not have anyone else there with us, but when I hit "transition" I told him to call my friend Alice who is a midwife. She came and told me, "Everything is just fine," then I pushed my baby out into my own hands while she took a low key spot in a chair in the next room. He was born in the caul.

On May 8, 1997 I finally had my unassisted birth! After the two previous births, I had just resigned myself during the pregnancy to call a midwife. No sense messing with the idea of an unassisted birth when I know that I will just lose confidence at the last moment. So this time I planned for a midwife, a doula, my boyfriend, and my mother (who never experienced birth as I was adopted) to be present. But with this baby girl, I had the most incredible experience of surrender through the whole pregnancy, and acutely during the day and night before she was born. I felt physically and emotionally weak in the face of the power of her arrival, and I was not afraid of the weakness. I woke up at about 1:15 a.m. and had a rush of tingling all over my body, then the shakes, followed by about 10 contractions and she slid out into my hands before I had a chance to even call anyone. It was fantastic!

I had never turned on a single light in the house. She was born into perfect darkness and we didn't turn on a light until at least one hour after her birth. I did not look for her sex for that long either. I just rested with her in my arms saying, "thank you, thank you, thank you," and "I love you baby." She nursed beautifully in the darkness. We awoke our 8 year old daughter after one hour and she joined us for the rest of the night.

Raven was born as best we can guess at about 2:26 a.m., only about 10 contractions and 45 minutes after labor started. I really believe that her birth was the way it was because of my surrender, peace and trust of the weakness I experienced so profoundly through the pregnancy, and the night before the birth. Her personality is the same, pure peace and calmness. She smiles continually, and awaits her mother's attention to her needs with patience and understanding. To be weak in the face of change, to surrender everything to the forces of nature and god, this is truly the challenge of birth, life and death.